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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410095">The Boy Who Lived, The Brightest Witch and The Boy Who Wasn't</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonfly117/pseuds/dragonfly117'>dragonfly117</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:22:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>203,294</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24410095</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonfly117/pseuds/dragonfly117</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A single conversation between Hermione and Neville in November of their fourth year changed the course of Harry's friendships forever. Eventual HHr.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hermione Granger/Harry Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1331</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2126</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Extraordinary Harry Potter FanFics, Top 10%</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione stomped down the corridor, a stack of toast clutched in a napkin in her hand. Oh, she was furious. That git, she fumed, trying to slow her breathing so she could calm down. It wouldn't do to see Harry in this state. No doubt he was panicking and angry at Ron and furious at the whole situation—and Harry had a tendency to say or do reckless things when he was angry.</p><p>She <em>knew</em> she shouldn'tve gone to the library last night, but she just couldn't help it. When Harry's name had popped out of the Goblet of Fire, she knew it was bad. When she saw the look on Harry's face and saw without a shadow of a doubt that he hadn't been the one to put his name in, she knew it was really bad. <em>Someone </em>had done this, and considering how many people had died during the Triwizard Tournament, she didn't think it was anyone who had some great affection for Harry.</p><p>So when Harry had been called back with the other champions and the rest of the students retired to their common rooms, she had nicked down to the library. It would likely be a while before Harry had returned to the tower, and she wanted to be useful—find out all she could about the Triwizard Tournament and whether there was a way to break the binding magical contract, as well as everything there was to know about the Goblet of Fire itself.</p><p>What she found wasn't good. The Goblet of Fire was an extraordinarily powerful magical object—which meant a student likely couldn't hoodwink it. This was no joke of Draco Malfoy's. No, this was the work of a powerful dark wizard—and Hermione could think of one in particular who would like to see Harry dead.</p><p>She shivered again at the thought, remembering how Harry's scar had hurt him this summer. She bit her lip, anxious—perhaps they should go to Dumbledore about that right away.</p><p>Of course, Harry would never go for it. Stubbornly independent, Harry never wanted to admit he needed help. Luckily for him, Hermione had no problem forcing him to accept hers. But even if Dumbledore knew, it's not like it would really change anything: If she suspected You-Know-Who, he likely already did too, and besides, the magical law was clear that there was no way out of the Triwizard contract.</p><p>She startled as she heard giggling. A couple of Hufflepuff fifth years were passing, giving her curious looks. She figured she must look a bit ridiculous, internally fighting with herself. She blew a bit of hair out of her eye, focusing on the issue.</p><p>She had learned last night that Harry would likely have to compete in a competition You-Know-Who likely entered him into in an effort to harm him. And, by the time Hermione returned to Gryffindor Tower to talk with him and Ron, Lee Jordan had informed her that both of them had retired to bed a while ago. Hermione had thought about marching up there, but if Harry really had managed to get to sleep—a feat after the disastrous night he'd had—she didn't want to wake him.</p><p>And so, she had gone down to the Great Hall this morning bright and early, expecting to eat a quick breakfast, before settling down in the common room to wait for them. What she had found in the Great Hall surprised her: Ron was already there, sitting with Seamus and Dean.</p><p>"Good morning," she'd greeted as she'd plopped down beside Seamus, and the three had nodded their greetings through mouthfuls of eggs and sausages. She scooped some onto her plate, looking around. Neville was halfway down the table, sitting near Lavender and Parvati, and Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were a few seats down on the right, but Harry wasn't anywhere.</p><p>"Where's Harry?" she'd asked. Ron grunted noncommittally, and silence greeted her before Dean answered, "He wasn't awake yet."</p><p>"I suppose he probably wouldn't want to eat amongst all this anyway," Hermione said, waving her fork around at the Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables, where she could hear whispers of some very unpleasant things being said about Harry. "We should probably take some breakfast up to him," she added, looking at Ron.</p><p>"Why?" Ron asked stiffly. "Don't think he'd enjoy the glory?"</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"If he didn't want all this attention, then he never should've put his name in the Goblet of Fire."</p><p>"You don't actually think that," Hermione replied sharply. "Did you not see his face when his name was called? He was absolutely astonished! He had no idea his name would come out of that cup!"</p><p>"Maybe because there weren't supposed to be four names," Ron retorted. "But you know he put his name in—you're not stupid. He told us how he'd do it, too, how he'd wait for everyone else to be asleep. Probably took the cloak out last night and did it."</p><p>Hermione rolled her eyes. "The cloak wouldn't have any effect on Dumbledore's age line," she sighed. "And besides, Harry doesn't exactly need any extra attention, does he? You know how much he hates people staring at him and making a big deal—why on earth would he do this?"</p><p>It was the wrong thing to say. Ron could be a bit touchy about all the attention Harry gets. Oh, he handled it well most of the time—he had to, to be Harry's best friend the past three years, but from time to time, his jealousy cropped up. This was apparently one of those times.</p><p>Ron's ears turned red. "Well then what's your explanation?" he sputtered.</p><p>Hermione narrowed her eyes, glancing sideways at Seamus and Dean. "I think it has something to do with what happened this summer," she replied meaningfully, referencing Harry's scar hurting him, as the two other Gryffindors glanced at each other, puzzled. "The Goblet of Fire is a really powerful object and it would take a really powerful wizard—"</p><p>"Oh come off, Hermione," Ron interrupted. "He's not—" He cut himself off glancing at Seamus and Dean. "Dumbledore would know if—"</p><p>Ron stopped talking, but Hermione caught his meaning. Dumbledore would know if You-Know-Who or one of his followers was hanging about the castle.</p><p>"He didn't last time," Hermione pointed out. Ron just stared at her.</p><p>"Look, this is stupid. Harry needs us, so just get over yourself and—"</p><p>"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked, his voice raised and his ears reddening even more. Neville, Lavender and Parvati were all watching them with interest now.</p><p>"It means that just because you're jealous of Harry, doesn't mean you can treat him like this," she snapped.</p><p>"I'm not jealous," Ron sputtered, his face turning the color of his hair. Seamus snickered and Dean looked up at the enchanted ceiling, seemingly enthralled by the shapes of the clouds. "I just don't want to talk to people who lie to their supposed best friends!"</p><p>"When has Harry ever lied to you?" Hermione snapped. "When has he ever <em>not</em> included you in whatever dangerous thing he was planning to do?"</p><p>"When he put his name in the Goblet of Fire!" Ron yelled.</p><p>She sighed. "Look, I get it. It's not easy being the best friend of the most famous wizard our age, but do you think it's any easier for him?"</p><p>She glanced at the others. Both she and Ron knew how hard Harry had had it: No real family, no love or affection when he was living with the Dursleys, and there was the small matter of You-Know-Who trying to kill him repeatedly, but Harry would be embarrassed if he found out the details of his life were being discussed in detail in the Great Hall for everyone to hear.</p><p>"Real hard," Ron muttered, "a vault full of gold, a spot on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, everyone wanting to take his picture—how does he manage it all?"</p><p>Hermione shook her head. She knew Ron didn't really feel that way—he was just letting his envy get the best of him—but he was nevertheless stirring some violent emotions in her, and she let out a sound that was half sigh and half exasperated scream.</p><p>"Fine," she yelled, standing up and grabbing a stack of toast with her napkin. "Be an idiot!"</p><p>Which is how she found herself stomping up to Gryffindor Tower without having eaten any breakfast. She slowed her gait, having finally reached the Fat Lady. The portrait started moving, and suddenly, she was faced with Harry climbing out of the portrait hole.</p><p>"Hello. I brought you this… want to go for a walk?"</p><p>He was grateful. Hermione could tell by the way he munched on the toast happily, and the look of immense relief on his face when she told him she believed him when he said he didn't put his name in the goblet. They discussed Ron—Harry was as angry as she thought he'd be—and Sirius—she'd finally convinced him to tell Sirius what was going on—and returned to Gryffindor Tower where everyone insisted on giving him accolades for an accomplishment that wasn't his and that he didn't want. Ron was nowhere to be found.</p>
<hr/><p>Things didn't improve as the week went on. The Slytherins were their usual obnoxious selves, making those awful Potter Stinks buttons, but the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws had decided to join in, treating Harry like some sort of attention hog who stole Cedric Diggory's glory. Ron's behavior didn't change and Harry was acting just as stubborn, forcing Hermione to either act as a go-between, creating very stilted conversation between the three, or choose one of them to sit with in class, in the common room and in the Great Hall. Since Ron often surrounded himself with Seamus and Dean, Hermione usually sat with Harry. This only served to make Ron angrier.</p><p>Then, of course, there was the incident with Hermione's teeth. Draco Malfoy had called her a Mudblood, and Harry, having finally reached his breaking point, had dueled the slimy git in the middle of the corridor. And Hermione had found her teeth growing as long as her neck—something Professor Snape pretended not to notice—and had found herself up in the hospital wing, getting her teeth shrunk. The one good thing, of course, was that Madam Pomfrey had managed to shrink them to slightly smaller than their usual size, fixing a problem that would have taken braces years to fix. Of course, she'd made Hermione stick around the hospital wing for dinner, wanting to check and see how her teeth worked.</p><p>Dinner had been what felt like ages ago though, and Hermione sat in the hospital bed, feeling rather stupid and wishing she was allowed to leave so she could finally start her Arithmancy essay.</p><p>"Hermione?" a voice called. Hermione turned to the other bed in the hospital wing. It was Neville, who had entered the hospital wing about an hour after Hermione, though they hadn't gotten a chance to talk as Hermione's teeth were still down to her chin, and Neville had appeared violently queasy. Now, however, he seemed to be doing better.</p><p>"Hello, Neville. Why are you here?"</p><p>"We tested antidotes in Potions today," he said. "It didn't go so well."</p><p>Hermione felt a pang of guilt. Usually, she was there in Potions to make sure Professor Snape didn't terrorize Neville too much—or attempt to kill his pet toad.</p><p>"How are your teeth?" he asked.</p><p>"Better than Goyle's face," she replied, gesturing across the room where Madam Pomfrey was attempting to rid Goyle's face of some truly awful-looking boils—not that it would help him from continuing to look like an ugly oaf, of course.</p><p>"Looks like Goyle got the worst of it," Neville grinned.</p><p>Madame Pomfrey turned to inspect them, questioning Neville on whether his stomach still felt queasy and asking Hermione if her teeth had rattled at all when she ate her apple. She leaned back, satisfied with their answers.</p><p>"You two can go," she waved them off, returning to Goyle with a harried look on her face. Neville and Hermione hopped off their beds and exited the hospital wing. They began the walk to Gryffindor Tower in silence before Neville suddenly broke it.</p><p>"How's Harry?" he asked. Hermione gave him a sidelong glance. Neville had always gotten on with her, Harry and Ron, but she hadn't heard him say much since this whole thing started. Neville's face flushed. "What I mean is, it's got to be hard, right? With everyone saying all sorts of stuff about him, and even the Gryffindors not listening when he says he didn't put his name in the cup."</p><p>"You believe him, then?" Hermione asked. Neville glanced at her, surprise etched in her face.</p><p>"Of course," he replied. "He said he didn't and you said he didn't, so… that must mean he didn't." There was a look of confusion on Neville's face as he worked through his own logic.</p><p>"Neville," she asked. "Have you told Harry that?" He shook his head.</p><p>They had reached the Fat Lady. Hermione muttered the password—Balderdash—and she let them in. She glanced around. Ron was across the room, playing a game of exploding snap with Seamus, but Harry was nowhere to be found. She and Neville settled into squashy armchairs near the fire, vaguely paying attention as Fred and George huddled at a nearby table over a piece of parchment, whispering furiously. She narrowed her eyes. That wasn't like them; they were usually the center of attention.</p><p>"No," Neville finally answered her, turning a bit pink. "I don't see how it would make much difference." Neville had never particularly had any confidence, which was a shame because he'd always been a stand-up guy.</p><p>"I think you should," Hermione said slowly, thinking back over the past few days. The only thing that had seemed to cheer Harry up was Hagrid telling him in no uncertain terms that he believed him, bringing the sum total of people who believed Harry at Hogwarts up to four: Hermione, Professor Dumbledore, Professor Moody and Hagrid. "I think it would really help Harry."</p><p>"Really?"</p><p>"Yeah," Hermione said, glancing at Ron. "It's really hurt him that people—well, Ron, especially—don't believe him, and I think it would go a long way if he knew you were on his side. And not just because you want him to win—because you actually believe him."</p><p>At the mention of Ron's name, Hermione noticed Fred glance up, though he still appeared to be focused on his conversation with George.</p><p>"Yeah, I've never seen Harry and Ron fight like this," Neville said. "They've barely said anything to each other up in the dormitory. It's making it right awkward for the rest of us if I'm being honest. Dean's about ready to start pelting them both with water balloons. Do you think they'll make up?"</p><p>"Of course they will," she replied automatically, with a confidence she didn't feel. Harry always somehow managed to bring her and Ron back together when they fought—whether it was something he did or just their shared fear for Harry's safety making them overcome whatever spat they were currently having—but she wasn't sure she could do the same for them. For whatever reason, she'd never been particularly good at connecting with people. The only reason she even had friends was because a troll attacked her three years ago. That's why it was so important that Harry and Ron fix this themselves, something she kept urging the both of them to do—earning snark from Harry and derision from Ron—but neither seemed to want to take that first step.</p><p>She shook her head, forcing herself to reframe the problem in her head. "It's just a little spat," she said. "Harry's too stubborn to actually <em>talk</em> to Ron and tell him how he feels, and Ron…," Hermione trailed off. "Well, he loves Harry, obviously, but he's always been jealous, hasn't he?"</p><p>Neville nodded slowly. "I don't really know why though," he said. "He's got all those brothers and Ginny, and two parents, and from what Harry's said about those muggles he lives with…" Neville trailed off, shuddering.</p><p>Hermione peered at him closely; he looked sad, and she was reminded of their first Defense Against The Dark Arts class this year, and Neville's horrified expression when Professor Moody used the Unforgivable Curses. She wondered again just why Neville lived with his grandmother.</p><p>"That's true," she said carefully, remembering also how carelessly Ron had talked about the Killing Curse after that lesson, going on about how the spider died just like that, before he cut himself off at the expression on Harry's face.</p><p>"Though," she added slowly, feeling the need to defend Ron a bit, "if you haven't known real loss, it can sometimes be hard to understand, don't you think? So Ron just sees that Harry gets all the attention from teachers and people on the streets in Diagon Alley, that he's a Quidditch star and he's got loads of money. It must be hard."</p><p>She heard a scoff coming from the next table. Both she and Neville turned to look at Fred and George, who had abandoned their writing and were now staring at each other, seemingly in some sort of silent conversation.</p><p>"What?" Hermione asked. They turned to her.</p><p>"It's a bit annoying," Fred said, "always having to hear about the poor destitute Weasleys."</p><p>George shook his head, standing up to join their grouping of armchairs, while Fred followed, shoving the piece of parchment in his pocket.</p><p>Hermione blushed pink, embarrassed at having insulted them or having them think she was in any way saying something bad about the Weasleys, who had always treated her so well. "I didn't mean—" she began.</p><p>"We know you didn't," George said, eyeing her closely. "Look, we know we don't have as much money as the Malfoys", George began—"Who does?" Fred interjected—"and we love our siblings dearly"—"Except Percy," Fred interjected again—"but the way Ron's always going on about how everything at our house is rubbish is a bit much don't you think?"</p><p>Hermione and Neville glanced at each other, not sure what to say.</p><p>"We might not have gold-plated toilets," Fred said, "but we get three meals a day, we go to Quidditch matches, we go on vacations; For Merlin's sake, Ron's got a stack of comic books sitting in his room and more Chudley Cannons paraphernalia than he knows what to do with."</p><p>"Does Harry have any of that?" George asked pointedly.</p><p>Hermione knew it was true. She'd had to send a box of snacks and a cake this summer just to make sure Harry was being fed thanks to Dudley's new diet, and as far as she knew, the Dursleys had never taken him anywhere. His Christmas "presents" were usually castoffs from his uncle, and judging by the size of Harry's clothes—which Hermione sometimes tried to shrink when Harry wasn't looking—everything he owned was secondhand from Dudley.</p><p>Neville, on the other hand, looked surprised. "Is it really that awful at his house?" he asked, looking around at all three of them, who wore matching grim expressions. "I know he said it was bad but… well, Harry doesn't really say much, does he?"</p><p>"I'm not saying Ron's right," Hermione said. "Just that I can understand where he's coming from. Obviously, I wish he'd handled this differently, but that didn't happen."</p><p>Fred and George exchanged a dark look before turning to her. "You think that even after the cat flap?" they asked.</p><p>Neville looked puzzled, and for once, Hermione agreed with him. "What cat flap?" she asked.</p><p>Fred and George exchanged another look, but didn't say anything.</p><p>"What cat flap?" she asked again, but George shook his head.</p><p>"If Harry didn't tell you—"</p><p>"Oh, come on," Hermione snapped. "Just tell me. I'll only yell at Ron and Harry until they tell me anyway, so you might as well."</p><p>Fred and George looked at her warily, as though she might just start yelling at them. Hermione, in return, did her best expression of Professor McGonagall, staring imperiously at them.</p><p>"Do you remember the summer we picked up Harry in our dad's car?" Fred asked slowly.</p><p>"You mean the summer you flew an illegal car halfway across England and are lucky you didn't get in any trouble for it?"</p><p>Fred ignored her. "When we got there, there were bars on Harry's window," he said, watching her carefully. For her part, Hermione was surprised—neither Ron nor Harry had ever mentioned <em>that.</em></p><p>"And there was a cat flap on his bedroom door," George continued darkly. "It was obvious to the three of us that the muggles had locked him in there—even during meals. That must've been what the cat flap was for."</p><p>Hermione could feel the rage boiling inside her—at the Dursleys, at Harry and Ron for not telling her, and at all the adults in Harry's life who had let him return to that house again and again.</p><p>How <em>dare</em> they never tell her? Of course Harry wouldn't, she thought bitterly. He never wanted to give anyone any reason to pity him. But Ron? She had <em>thought</em> they were a team: Team Harry, helping him through the worst of his troubles. But this? She knew the Dursleys were bad, but had she known this… had anyone known this, there's no way they would've sent Harry back to that awful place summer after summer. She felt her rage give way to sadness and tried to hold back tears thinking of how lonely Harry must feel over the summers. Oh, he'd hate her thinking like this, she thought anxiously.</p><p>"Did you tell anyone?" Hermione asked.</p><p>"Dad," Fred answered her quietly. "He talked to Dumbledore, but I don't think much happened after that."</p><p>Hermione tried to calm herself. She glanced at Neville, and was startled when she saw him glaring at Ron.</p><p>"Neville?" she asked, and he turned to her, his face cold but his eyes a storm of anger and compassion.</p><p>"I don't know how anyone can see something like that," he spat, his voice starting out timid, growing stronger as he spoke, "knowing that the only reason your friend is living there is because his parents were <em>murdered</em>, and still act like a jealous prat over some stupid tournament."</p><p>He turned to glare at Ron again, and while he didn't say it, Hermione could sense what he was thinking: Harry deserved better. Neville Longbottom might be timid and scared, and he might be clumsy and a bit inept at all magic except herbology, but as she watched him in the common room that night, Hermione couldn't help but think that Harry had just gained an unwavering ally. And she was glad.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the weighing of the wands and the disastrous interview with Rita Skeeter—if you could even call it an interview—all Harry Potter wanted to do was find Hermione to discuss the contents of Sirius' letter. She hadn't been in the Great Hall that night—likely owing to Malfoy's curse—which had made for a lonely dinner for Harry, something he was routinely getting used to.</p>
<p>But then he'd returned to his room, and there had been the letter from Sirius, asking to arrange for a time to speak via the Floo. It had made him feel good, knowing that someone else was unequivocally on his side—though he doubted Sirius would be able to give him any tangible advice on facing a foe he had no information about. Still, getting that reassurance that Sirius was okay—in real time, and not with the delay of an owl—would mean everything to him.</p>
<p>He got his chance to tell Hermione everything the following morning on their way down to breakfast. Or, at least, he thought he did. He'd been glancing around the corridors—avoiding the nasty looks from the Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Ravenclaws—waiting for a good moment to bring up his convicted-murderer godfather without everyone else listening in, when he realized Hermione was deep in thought, worlds away.</p>
<p>"Hermione?"</p>
<p>"Huh?" she glanced up, as if she hadn't realized Harry was right next to her or that they were, in fact, in Hogwarts.</p>
<p>"Everything alright?"</p>
<p>She studied him, and then suddenly grabbed his arm, whirled around and dragged him into an empty classroom. He perched on a desk, waiting for her to say what was on her mind. She usually did.</p>
<p>Finally, she spoke and he wished she hadn't.</p>
<p>"Why didn't you tell me your aunt and uncle put bars on your window?" she asked, a bit timid, eyeing him carefully. "And… a cat flap on your door?"</p>
<p>He felt his face grow hotter and his cloak felt entirely too tight, and he wished they were still walking so he didn't have to look at her face for this particular conversation. He looked down at his shoes.</p>
<p>"Oh, that," he said flatly, shrugging. "It was just for a bit that one summer. It's not a big deal. They wouldn't dare do anything like that now that I've got a murdering lunatic for a godfather who only wants to keep me happy."</p>
<p>He tried for a grin, but her face remained solemn.</p>
<p>"It <em>is</em> a big deal, Harry," Hermione said fiercely. "You should have told someone! You should have told <em>me</em>."</p>
<p>He couldn't look at her. The fact of the matter was, he <em>couldn't</em> have told her. He had been at his lowest point that summer, assuming Hermione and Ron didn't actually care for him at all thanks to Dobby pilfering his mail, so when the Weasleys showed up in their flying car, an affirmation that people actually cared about him, he had wanted to just put the whole rubbish summer behind him. Besides, it was bad enough that Ron and the twins had seen him like that—having to explain it to anyone else would be torture.</p>
<p>Especially Hermione. He knew her well enough to know she would have told every adult she knew whom she thought would have the power to do something about it, and while Harry appreciated how very much she cared, the idea of everyone going on about poor, sad Harry put a pit the size of a Quaffle in his stomach.</p>
<p>He shrugged again, this time looking up at the ceiling. "Don't we have enough to worry about with the Triwizard Tournament without adding on the Dursleys, who I won't even see until next summer?" he asked. "Maybe I'll get lucky and one of these tasks will do me in, and the Dursleys won't be a problem anymore."</p>
<p>"Don't say that," Hermione chastised, her voice gaining an octave as she fidgeted with her hands, and Harry instantly felt guilty. He knew how much she worried about him, how anxious she got when he did anything especially dangerous; he didn't need to feed her fears, alienating the one person he had left.</p>
<p>"Sorry," he muttered, searching for something to make them both feel better. "I heard from Sirius last night. He reckons he can help."</p>
<p>"Really?"</p>
<p>Hermione was intrigued. She bit her lip—Harry could tell she wanted to discuss the Dursleys more—but luckily, the problem of the first task seemed to shift to first priority in her mind and she let the Dursley topic go—for now. He was certain a more in-depth conversation was in their future.</p>
<p>"What did Sirius say?" she asked finally.</p>
<p>He motioned for her to follow him out of the classroom—the corridors were mostly empty now and he wanted to get to breakfast before it was time for class.</p>
<p>"He wants to meet in the fire in Gryffindor Tower at 1 a.m. in a couple of weeks," he said. "He wanted to know if we could arrange it so no one would be in the common room."</p>
<p>Hermione considered that. "I'm sure we could," she said. "Most everyone is asleep by then, and worst case scenario, we could always drop some dungbombs."</p>
<p>"Filch would kill us," Harry pointed out.</p>
<p>"If he found out it was us," Hermione countered. "He'd probably just blame Fred and George."</p>
<p>Harry looked at her, his eyebrow raised, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm not saying we frame them," she laughed, "just that they would be Filch's first suspects… Besides, I highly doubt it will come to dungbombs. We'll just have to be… inventive."</p>
<p>Harry felt a bit more cheerful at the look on her face. Hermione got a lot of flak for being a fastidious goody-two-shoes, but those who knew her best knew that when she thought a rule was unfair or the ends justified the means, she was an epic rule breaker.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry thought things couldn't get worse, and then Rita Skeeter's article came out. Suddenly, he was being attacked from all sides with other students quoting him talking about his dead parents, how he cried himself to sleep, how they were his inspiration for the Tournament. Hermione didn't fare much better, what with the article calling her his "stunningly pretty" girlfriend.</p>
<p>She bore the ridicule much better than he did, and he remained consistently in awe at how she was able to constantly keep up her mantra: Ignore, ignore, ignore.</p>
<p>"So what if the Slytherins are calling me ugly," she told Harry one morning after a particularly nasty comment from Millicent Bulstrode, who, in Harry's opinion, didn't have much room to talk. "<em>I </em>don't care."</p>
<p>"You're not ugly," he responded reflexively, as they continued down the corridor.</p>
<p>Hermione rolled her eyes, and Harry wasn't sure if she didn't believe him or if she truly didn't care what the Slytherins thought of her appearance.</p>
<p>"Regardless, none of that matters," she said. "Just ignore the comments, pretend they don't exist."</p>
<p>"Look, there goes The Boy Who Lied!" someone shouted.</p>
<p>"Don't you mean The Boy Who Cried?" another voice retorted.</p>
<p>"Hey Potter, you dropped your hanky! Wouldn't want you blubbering into your cauldron in Potions!" some first-year Hufflepuff called out.</p>
<p>Great. It'd gotten to the point that even first years thought he was fair game.</p>
<p>"You know something, Hermione?" he said, a little louder than necessary. "I'm beginning to regret stabbing that basilisk."</p>
<p>He then whispered a few hisses that were absolute nonsense but likely sounded like parseltongue to anyone who didn't actually speak it. He earned a few stricken looks from his adoring fans, who quickly scurried away, and a mirthless laugh and head shake from Hermione.</p>
<p>"Just ignore it," she stressed.</p>
<p>He admired her ability to compartmentalize the ridicule, but personally, he thought he'd have as much luck ignoring the comments as he would the cries of a mandrake.</p>
<p>The one thing he was quite glad about was that all the attention—and everyone talking about them as if they were a couple—hadn't created any awkwardness between them personally. Hermione was the same Hermione, going with him to the library to study the theory behind summoning charms, making sure he ate a proper breakfast even though trips to the Great Hall had become a torturous affair, and theorizing with him about where in the world Sirius was hiding out at that very moment. Merlin knows what he'd do without her.</p>
<p>Worse than the ridicule was Ron. The night the article was published, he had detention with Snape and Ron thanks to the incident with Malfoy. Harry wasn't sure which of them hated him more at the moment, but it was hard to tell. Snape didn't say anything aside from giving them directions, a look of pure hatred on his face, which Harry found a bit surprising—Snape usually didn't miss a chance to tell Harry he was arrogant and full of himself, just like his father, and Rita Skeeter had offered up the perfect opportunity to do so.</p>
<p>Ron didn't say anything at all, though every so often he would glance at Harry over his pickled rat brains, and make a "Pfft" sound as if he was rereading the article in his head and finding Harry lacking.</p>
<p>All in all, he was glad to get back to the dormitory and gladder still when Ron popped into the shower. He paced around the room a bit, feeling the bitterness rising inside him. He was facing this massively dangerous task, something he felt woefully unprepared for and certain would kill him, the fear affecting his nerves in ways he hadn't felt since he learned how to conjure a patronus charm and was able to hold off the soul-sucking dread the dementors instilled in a person, and in the meantime, he had to deal with constant pettiness from all sides, including from the mate he thought would stand by him through anything, his very first friend, the person he thought knew him best. They had faced down trolls and acromantulas and werewolves together, and <em>this</em> was how well Ron knew him? He kicked his trunk in exasperation, and then felt very stupid as all of his toes started throbbing.</p>
<p>"Harry?"</p>
<p>Harry turned, surprised. He had thought he was alone, but Neville was sitting quietly on his four-poster bed, their Transfiguration book spread out in front of him.</p>
<p>"Bad day?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"Detention with Snape," he responded, not bothering to get into all the rest, and Neville shuddered. It was well known to the fourth-year Gryffindors—and the whole school, in fact, thanks to Neville's boggart—that Snape was what Neville feared the most.</p>
<p>"The worst," Neville groaned, sending Harry a sympathetic look. Harry offered him a small smile, and turned back to his trunk, aiming to grab his exploding snap cards. Hermione was downstairs, furiously reading from what looked like three separate texts—whether she was doing work for one of her classes or researching for S.P.E.W. was anyone's guess, but he figured he might be able to get her to put that aside for a quick game. Certainly, he needed to get his mind off things.</p>
<p>"I don't expect Rita Skeeter's lies helped your day much either," Neville said, and Harry looked at him, surprised.</p>
<p>"How do you know they were lies?" he asked. It was shocking how quickly he had become used to people branding him a liar.</p>
<p>Neville looked at him like he was stupid, and Harry felt very dumb indeed. It wasn't often that Neville was the one explaining something to someone.</p>
<p>"I've known you for years, Harry, and in all that time, you've never once said something to me—or anyone, except Ron and Hermione, I expect—about your parents," Neville said. "But I'm supposed to believe you said four pages worth of stuff to some random reporter you've just met?"</p>
<p>Harry felt instantly more cheerful.</p>
<p>"Besides," Neville added, "Gran always says that Rita Skeeter's a bottom-feeder whose stories aren't fit to line the bottom of her owl's birdcage."</p>
<p>Harry grinned. "Thanks, Neville."</p>
<p>Neville looked down at his book and then up again, blushing slightly. "I believe you about the rest of it, too," he said quickly. "About not putting your name in the Goblet of Fire."</p>
<p>"Really?"</p>
<p>"You're not a liar, Harry."</p>
<p>Harry felt lighter than he had in weeks. It wasn't just the words or the sentiments behind them, but the way Neville had declared it—simply and without reservation.</p>
<p>"I saw Hermione behind a pile of books in the common room when I was coming up," Harry said. "Want to help me coax her into a game of exploding snap?"</p>
<p>"Sure," Neville replied, smiling, shutting his book as he stood. They walked out together, neither of them noticing that the adjacent door to their bathroom was ajar.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After that night, Neville was with Harry and Hermione almost constantly. He sat with them in the library and the common room, ate with them in the Great Hall and switched to their workstation in most classes. Ron, for his part, joined Seamus and Dean.</p>
<p>It drove Hermione nuts. Much as she liked Neville and was glad he was their friend, she didn't see why Ron couldn't be their friend too and still spent a significant amount of her time going between Harry and Ron, urging them to talk to each other. Harry didn't know what exactly Ron said to her, but his own response was always the same: Not until Ron admitted that Harry hadn't lied and apologized for the whole thing.</p>
<p>If Harry were being truthful, he probably would have forgiven Ron even without the apology. If Ron would only talk to him again, that would have been enough for him. He liked Hermione and Neville very much, but they were both more serious than Ron—and Harry would give just about anything for a bit of laughter in his life right now.</p>
<p>But, if anything, his hanging out with Neville had only served to make Ron surlier, and Neville had admitted to Harry and Hermione, with a look of slight amazement on his face, that he was fairly certain that Ron was jealous of him now, too.</p>
<p>"Well, of course he is," Hermione had declared to Harry in confidence one night. "He's mad that you've got a new friend."</p>
<p>"So Ron doesn't want to be friends with me, but he doesn't want me to have anyone else either?" Harry retorted.</p>
<p>"No," Hermione said. "<em>He </em>wants to be your best friend."</p>
<p>"That's stupid. If Ron <em>wanted</em> to be my best friend he would just apologize and <em>be</em> my best friend."</p>
<p>"You're both being stupid," Hermione replied. "You miss each other, and you both refuse to do anything about it."</p>
<p>"I don't miss him," he gritted out.</p>
<p>Hermione threw him a look. "Right," she said skeptically.</p>
<p>In response, Harry threw himself into his Transfiguration notes.</p>
<p>And so, they had gone on like that, Harry, Hermione and Neville, and as the days passed Harry found that, while they did spend more time in the library—Hermione complaining all the while about the gaggle of girls following Viktor Krum, while Harry worried what exactly Krum was studying in the library every day and whether Harry should do the same—he didn't exactly mind it. At least when they were in their own little bubble he didn't have to hear sneers about how he cried into his pillow at night about his dead parents.</p>
<p>The biggest issue they faced was the Sirius problem. Hermione and Harry often wanted to discuss the clandestine meeting, but felt awkward bringing it up in front of Neville. They knew he wouldn't betray them—Harry doubted if any of the fourth-year Gryffindors would—but they didn't know if it was fair to Neville to tell him. Technically, the Ministry was still out looking for Sirius, and anyone with information about him could get in serious trouble. Harry thought it would be okay—that Neville wouldn't mind knowing—but Hermione put her foot down that they should keep Sirius' circle as small as possible for now, and Harry didn't particularly feel like doing anything to alienate his remaining friends, so he agreed.</p>
<p>And so, they discussed it any chance they got when Neville wasn't around.</p>
<p>"What if Angelina stays in the common room late?" Harry mused worriedly one afternoon when it was just him and Hermione in the common room. "She's been staying up all hours studying for her apparition test."</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "Not on a Hogsmeade weekend she won't," she said. "You don't have to worry. She won't be around the common room when you take that call."</p>
<p>"What call?"</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione looked up. Neville had just walked down the stairs to the common room, his bag in his hand. Hermione stared at Harry, apprehension flitting across her face for a second before she forced a blank look onto it.</p>
<p>"Harry's getting a Floo call, Saturday," she said airily, trying—and succeeding—at sounding nonchalant. "We don't really want anyone to know, given everything that's going on."</p>
<p>"Oh, of course," Neville replied.</p>
<p>Harry could see him mentally going through the list of people Harry knew outside of Hogwarts who might have access to a Floo. The list wasn't exactly long.</p>
<p>"Is it Professor Lupin?"</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"Your call," Neville said. "I imagine you wouldn't want it getting out if you had help with the tasks, and he really seemed to like you, what with all of those extra lessons. Plus, he was amazing at Defense Against the Dark Arts. I expect he'd be right useful with the tournament."</p>
<p>"Yes," Hermione piped up.</p>
<p>Neville beamed. "Great," he said. "If you need any help getting people out of the common room, let me know. I've got to get to the greenhouses now. Professor Sprout asked a few of us to help out with the Venomous Tentacula."</p>
<p>Hermione and Harry bid Neville goodbye, Harry half marveling at the fact that Neville was hopeless in most classes, yet when it came to a spiky plant that actively tried to kill the people around it, Neville was aces.</p>
<p>Hermione was marveling for a different reason.</p>
<p>"Why didn't <em>we</em> think of Professor Lupin?" she said, a chastising tone to her voice. "Of course he can help. And he won't have to risk a dementor's kiss to do it."</p>
<p>"I don't know that I should bother him," Harry said. Professor Lupin had enough of his own problems without Harry adding on his own.</p>
<p>Hermione gave her head a little shake. "He'd want to be bothered Harry. Your dad was one of his best friends. You should go get Hedwig right now and write to him."</p>
<p>Harry considered that. He wasn't sure where Professor Lupin lived, but Hedwig had always been able to find anyone. Harry hadn't seen Hedwig since she'd gotten mad at him for using a school owl to send a note to Sirius instead of her, but Sirius had specifically instructed him to use a more discreet bird. Hedwig had been noticeably agitated at that, so maybe a letter—especially a hard-to-deliver one—would be just the thing to get her on Harry's side again. And Neville was right—Professor Lupin knew more about Defense Against the Dark Arts than most people Harry knew. And, he supposed that Hermione was right too—Professor Lupin would want to help.</p>
<p>"Yeah," he said, "I think I will."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The Saturday before the first task was a Hogsmeade weekend. Hermione and Neville convinced Harry to go, but he preferred to wear his invisibility cloak so that he could avoid any nasty remarks. For her part, Hermione was happy that, thanks to Neville's presence, she didn't have to look like a blithering idiot who was talking to herself while Harry remained hidden under his cloak.</p>
<p>It was the happiest Harry had been in ages. The day was cool and brisk, but sunny, and for the first time in weeks he could walk around without hearing Rita Skeeter's words being thrown in his face. Even better, he thought with satisfaction as they left Honeydukes, the cloak enabled him to avoid the reporter altogether. She was prowling around the village, a photographer in tow, no doubt looking for Harry. He watched her exit the Three Broomsticks and head down toward Zonko's.</p>
<p>So when Hermione suggested a butterbeer—promising that he wouldn't have to talk to Ron—Harry readily agreed, figuring Rita Skeeter wouldn't be back there for a while.</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione grabbed a table, while Neville went to pick up their drinks. Harry settled into his seat, and Hermione took her record of S.P.E.W. members out of her bag.</p>
<p>She looked around the pub. "Maybe I should try to get some of the villagers involved in S.P.E.W."</p>
<p>Harry didn't know what to say. On the one hand, he generally agreed with Hermione about house elves. When he has questioned both Dobby and Winky about their lives, it had been clear that both were ill-treated and could do with some protections. It's why Harry had freed Dobby, after all.</p>
<p>But Winky had been adamant that fighting for wages and vacation time wasn't the right path, and everyone in the wizarding world—including Hagrid, who frequently wished all manner of dangerous and violent magical creatures had more freedoms—kept telling them that most house elves agreed with Winky. It wouldn't do to give them freedom they weren't prepared to take, but he did think they should do <em>something</em>—but Harry suspected that S.P.E.W. might not be the best way to go about things.</p>
<p>"Maybe you should talk to some house elves first?" he suggested. "See what they want?"</p>
<p>"Why wouldn't they want proper wages and working conditions?" Hermione asked, a dangerous note to her voice, which only grew stronger as she went on. "Why would they want to be slaves subjugated to a cruel system that lets their masters do whatever they want, even maiming and torturing their slaves!"</p>
<p>Harry held up his hands, then realized that was a bit counterproductive as he was under an invisibility cloak and Hermione couldn't see him.</p>
<p>"I'm not saying <em>that,</em>" he said. "Just that if you're going to be advocating for them, doesn't it make sense to get their input on what you should advocate for?"</p>
<p>"They've been brainwashed to think that they like slavery," Hermione hissed.</p>
<p>"And I'm sure telling them they've been brainwashed will go over really well," Harry replied, a mock-cheerful tone to his voice. "'Oh, that's right,' they'll say. 'Wizards and witches have been dictating to us for centuries how we should think, but now this <em>other</em> witch is telling us how we should think, that's the ticket, let's all start a revolution now.'"</p>
<p>Hermione's ire visibly lessened, and she looked thoughtfully at the seemingly empty space where Harry's head was.</p>
<p>"Maybe it is time for more direct action," she murmured. "I wonder how you get down into the kitchens."</p>
<p>"Fred and George would know," Harry replied, before offhandedly adding, "Sirius probably would too."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him, a plan very obviously forming in her head.</p>
<p>"I'm not wasting time asking him about the kitchens," he said quickly. "Not when we see Fred and George every day."</p>
<p>Hermione seemed to agree because she nodded and returned to checking over her notes. Neville returned with their drinks, slipping into the seat beside Hermione.</p>
<p>"What's up?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Hermione's single-handedly planning to overthrow centuries of oppression of house elves," Harry replied.</p>
<p>"I'm wondering how you get into the kitchens," she clarified. "I'd like to talk to some house elves to gain their perspective."</p>
<p>"Well, you can talk to Diggy," Neville said, taking a sip of his butterbeer.</p>
<p>"Diggy?"</p>
<p>"Our house elf," Neville replied nervously, his ears turning pink. He had clearly heard the S.P.E.W. pitch before. Harry groaned inwardly, while Hermione looked scandalized.</p>
<p>"You contribute to slave labor?" she asked fiercely.</p>
<p>"Well, my Gran does."</p>
<p>"Has she ever considered freeing Diggy?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"I don't think so," Neville said. "But she treats Diggy well. None of that ironing their hands nonsense or anything."</p>
<p>"That's not exactly a high bar," Hermione retorted, and Neville blushed even more, looking like he rather wished he could disappear into his chair.</p>
<p>Harry had seen this conversation play out a million times before with Hermione and Ron: Hermione, passionate about the cause, and Ron, who'd grown up in the wizarding world, casually dismissive of everything she was saying, treating it like some sort of joke. (To be fair, Harry agreed that the Spew name could probably use some work.)</p>
<p>He didn't think Neville would go that route. Over the past couple of weeks, Harry had gotten the impression that Neville wanted to impress Hermione; he had a bit of a look of awe on his face anytime she spoke. And certainly, he couldn't picture Neville dismissing outright anything anyone believed in as passionately as Hermione believed in things.</p>
<p>So he wasn't exactly surprised when Neville screwed up his face in concentration, like he was trying to find exactly the right words to say.</p>
<p>"I know you both didn't grow up with house elves, so it's kind of hard to explain," he said. "I've met a bunch—Gran has a lot of friends and acquaintances who come from the other old pureblood families. To be honest, whenever we went visiting her friends, I spent most of my time in their kitchens with the house elves—it was better than hanging around Gran's friends who liked to hit me with antler jinxes and Tarantallegra to see if I would do any accidental magic to protect myself. Gran was half-convinced I was a squib."</p>
<p>He blushed. "Anyway, if you'd met these house elves, you'd get it. They don't just talk about how happy they are doing work. The Fawcetts gave their house elf clothes when I was eight—the other elves are <em>still </em>talking about it," he said. "And they are savage. The things they say about him, how he got what he deserved. If you tried to give them wages and vacation, most of them would consider it an insult. Diggy would. But she likes when I make her hot chocolate when she's sick—extra marshmallows are her favorite—and chocolate pudding on her birthday."</p>
<p>Hermione was silent for a moment.</p>
<p>"Well, that's nice that you do that for Diggy, of course," Hermione said. "But it's not nearly enough. There are plenty of purebloods who don't care at all about the well-being of house elves."</p>
<p>Neville looked at her nervously—then shrugged in a helpless sort of way. "But how do you give someone something if they don't want it?" he asked, echoing Harry's earlier words.</p>
<p>Hermione looked at Harry—clearly thinking the exact same thing as him—and to Harry's amazement, Hermione actually seemed to ponder what both boys had said.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry struggled as he ran down the corridor. After Hermione got lost in her thoughts about house elves, Professor Moody and Hagrid had stopped by their table at the Three Broomsticks, and Hagrid had told Harry to come down for a visit that night.</p>
<p>Dragons. The first task was going to be dragons. He knew, Madame Maxime knew, Karkaroff knew—everyone but Cedric knew—and Harry was very close to being late for Sirius.</p>
<p>"Balderdash," he cried, flinging himself through the portrait hole and into the common room. He looked around. He was alone.</p>
<p>Not for long though, because there was Sirius looking younger and more like the man in his parent's wedding photo than ever.</p>
<p>"Sirius, how are you doing?"</p>
<p>"Never mind me. How are you?"</p>
<p>Harry was about to say he was fine—an automatic response at this point—but couldn't.</p>
<p>"Awful. Everyone thinks I put my name in the Goblet of Fire, like I'm some kind of nutter with a death wish. Oh, that's right, dark wizards and basilisks and acromantulas and dementors and Voldemort haven't been enough of a challenge for me at Hogwarts—instead of hanging out with my friends in Hogsmeade this year, I want to top all of that and enter the tournament that routinely offs its contestants. Sign me up for the murder competition, <em>that</em> sounds fun.</p>
<p>"I expected the Slytherins to be jerks about it but the Hufflepuffs think I stole their glory and the Ravenclaws have sided with them. The Gryffindors are all congratulating me, but every one of them—except Hermione and Neville—are certain I put my name in that cup, that I wanted all of this to happen. And now Rita Skeeter's written this article that's all lies—I never said anything to her except that I didn't put my name in the cup and now there's front page news all about how I cry myself to sleep at night. Even Mrs. Weasley is going on and on about it, according to Charlie, and I bet she's not alone.</p>
<p>"And the stuff they're saying here! I can't walk down the halls without someone quoting that stupid article at me. Did you know, Sirius, that dead parents are a supremely funny joke topic? It's basically gotten to the point where the entire punchline is, 'Haha, your parents got murdered.' Like, wow, how original.</p>
<p>"And the worst of it is Ron. He hasn't talked to me in weeks, except to tell me that I'm a liar. He doesn't believe me at all. He actually thinks that I told him all about how Hermione and I broke all sorts of laws to go back in time to save you, but telling him how I got past some stupid age line, that's where I draw the line on secrets.</p>
<p>"I'm just so sick of his jealousy. I didn't ask to be famous, I didn't ask for this scar or for my parents to be killed, and for most of my life I didn't live any better than him. But no, according to him, I'm just an attention hog. I mean, how can he think I actually want this? Ever since Halloween there's just been this pit in my stomach—all of the other champions, they're older, they know more, they're...taller. They actually wanted this, and there's no way I can do this. And now Hagrid's just shown me what's in the first task, and it's dragons, Sirius, and I'm a goner."</p>
<p>He sounded desperate. He knew he did. It was the most Harry had spoken in weeks—probably the most he'd spoken ever—and it spoke to how close Harry's nerves were fraying over this whole terrifying mess.</p>
<p>But Sirius was calm, and while his eyes were full of concern, his voice was soothing. Harry had never had an adult with whom he could be completely honest before, completely himself, and he found he rather liked it. With everything Sirius said—about Karkaroff being a Death Eater, about Moody catching him, about Bertha Jorkins—Harry felt a bit better. Sirius was composed, and that made Harry feel composed, too.</p>
<p>Sirius was about to tell Harry how to get past the dragons—all it would take is a simple spell—when Harry heard a noise coming from the boys dormitory.</p>
<p>"I think there's someone coming!" Harry hissed, standing up to get a better look and hide the fire.</p>
<p>"Gerroff, Neville!" He heard a yell—it was Ron—and then a loud crash.</p>
<p>Two bodies tumbled down the stairs, and Harry watched helplessly as Ron and Neville tried to disentangle from each other. Ron had somehow wound up with Neville's foot squashed against his nose.</p>
<p>Harry heard footsteps behind them, and turned back to Sirius. "You'd better go—half the house is likely to come down here."</p>
<p>With a pop, Sirius was gone. Harry turned back to Ron and Neville, who had finally managed to separate. Ron's eyes had narrowed, focused on the fireplace, and Harry was sure he had seen, but he didn't think Neville caught the face in the fire.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Harry," Neville said. "I tried to stop him."</p>
<p>"You tried to kill me," Ron muttered, nursing his elbow.</p>
<p>"I <em>tripped</em>," Neville retorted.</p>
<p>"What were you doing coming down here anyway?" Harry asked, turning stone-faced to Ron.</p>
<p>Harry hadn't felt a rage like this in a long time, which was saying something given he wanted to hex somebody every time he turned a corner. He knew it wasn't Ron's fault, but he didn't care. He was going to get killed by dragons in a few days, and Sirius could have helped him, but because Ron couldn't keep his freckled nose out of Harry's business—even though he'd decided to stop being Harry's friend—now Harry had no idea how to get past a bloody dragon.</p>
<p>"I just wondered where you—" Ron broke off. "Forget it. I'm going back to bed."</p>
<p>Ron had stood up and turned, but the path was now blocked by Seamus and Dean, who'd come down to see what was going on. Boys from other years were filtering down the stairs behind them, sleepy looks on their faces.</p>
<p>"Just thought you'd snoop around?" Harry shouted. "Who asked you to?"</p>
<p>Ron's ears reddened. "Right," he nodded. "I forgot that the Gryffindor common room belonged to the all-mighty champion. All the better to prepare for your next interview. Better get your lackey here"—Ron jerked his thumb at Neville—"to help you sign all your autographs."</p>
<p>Harry was vaguely aware of more people coming down the staircase as he picked up a Potter Really Stinks badge and threw it at Ron. He felt a small sliver as satisfaction as it hit its target, bouncing off Ron's forehead. But that satisfaction was fleeting, and Harry quickly slipped back down into his misery.</p>
<p>"There. Something for you to wear on Tuesday. You might even have a scar now if you're lucky… that's what you want isn't it?"</p>
<p>Ron just stared at him, his face getting redder as everyone around him began to murmur. Harry blindly pushed past the people on the stairs—he thought Dennis Creevey and Cormac McLaggen were there—and strode up to the dormitory.</p>
<p>Neville followed immediately, but Seamus, Dean and Ron did not. Neville sat on his bed, silent.</p>
<p>"He shouldn't have called you that," Harry said gruffly. "You're not a lackey."</p>
<p>"I'm really sorry," Neville replied, his voice small. "I tried to stop him."</p>
<p>Harry wished with everything in him that Neville had been able to succeed—if it had been Hermione, Ron would be laying on the floor thanks to the full body bind, and Harry would be sitting beside the fireplace discussing dragon strategy with Sirius—but Neville wasn't Hermione. He tamped down on his anger, filtering all of it in Ron's direction because, after all, he was glad to at least still have a friend willing to take a tumble down a flight of stairs for him.</p>
<p>"I know you did," Harry said, giving Neville a small smile.</p>
<p>He could only imagine what everyone at school would say about him <em>now.</em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione Granger awoke on Sunday morning with purpose. Harry had gone down to see Hagrid last night and then he'd talked to Sirius—at least one of them might have had something useful to say about the first task.</p>
<p>She'd studiously avoided talking to Harry about it—tried to avoid even thinking about it. If she had a clue, something to go off of, something to research, then she could <em>do </em>something. She'd spent a fair bit of time researching past tasks of the Triwizard Tournament to try to learn something helpful—obtaining a hair from the tail of an erumpent, getting past fiendfyre and inferi, stealing treasure from a griffin, curse-breaking a five-hundred-year-old crypt, killing a manticore… It seems all she'd learned was that the tasks were practically impossible.</p>
<p>But if Hagrid or Sirius could point them in the right direction, she <em>knew</em> that together she and Harry could come up with a solution. They always did.</p>
<p>Figuring Harry was likely to sleep in—he had a late night after all—she went down to breakfast alone, slipping into the seat next to Ginny.</p>
<p>"Hello," she said, pouring some pumpkin juice.</p>
<p>Ginny looked up from her porridge. "You haven't heard, then?" she asked, a look of unease on her face. "You must not have. No way you'd be this matter-of-fact."</p>
<p>"Heard what?" Hermione asked warily.</p>
<p>"About the ruckus in the common room late last night," Ginny answered. "Woke up half the house."</p>
<p>Hermione felt her heart sink. Had Sirius been spotted? But no, surely if a fugitive had been seen in the common room fire, Ginny would've led with that.</p>
<p>"What happened?"</p>
<p>"Harry and Ron," Ginny replied. "I'm not sure how it started—I didn't see any of it, just heard about it this morning—but I know it ended with Harry chucking a Potter Stinks button at Ron's head. He said something about Ron being jealous of his scar, too."</p>
<p>Hermione felt her heart sink lower. These boys were <em>impossible</em>.</p>
<p>"Oh, <em>no,</em>" she murmured.</p>
<p>"Dean told me Ron refused to go back up to the dorm after," Ginny added. "He ended up bunking with Fred and George and the other sixth years."</p>
<p>She waved her spoon around, indicating the other students. "Half the school's heard by now," she said, and as Hermione looked around, sure enough, she caught snatches of conversation, and they all involved the words Potter, button and scar.</p>
<p>"Ron's going to go mental when he finds out everyone's talking about it," Ginny added, looking around in concern.</p>
<p>"Have you seen either of them?"</p>
<p>Ginny shook her head, then made a face. "Can't imagine either of them will be great company right about now though," she said.</p>
<p>She didn't know the half of it. If Ron had interrupted Sirius, Harry must be furious.</p>
<p>Hermione got her answer when Harry entered the Great Hall a few minutes later, stood wordlessly beside her until she finished her bite of porridge, then grabbed her hand and dragged her out for a walk around the lake.</p>
<p>"We have to talk about the fight," Hermione said firmly, as soon as they settled into a rhythm around the shoreline.</p>
<p>"I'd rather talk about the dragons," Harry replied.</p>
<p>Hermione stopped short, and Harry turned to look at her. "Dragons?" she whispered. Harry nodded grimly.</p>
<p>She felt faint. Dragons were in the most dangerous class of magical beasts. This Triwizard tournament was supposed to be <em>reformed. </em>What was Dumbledore thinking letting them on the grounds? It was reckless, it was risky, it was irresponsible—it was insane!</p>
<p>Hermione felt the hysteria wash over her, and took a deep breath. <em>Quirrell, Basilisk, Dementors. Quirrell, Basilisk, Dementors.</em></p>
<p>She repeated it over and over in her head, her small reminder that while dragons were an impossible task, Harry had faced impossible tasks before, and always managed to make it through. This would be no different, she thought firmly.</p>
<p>"What do you have to <em>do </em>with the dragons?" Hermione asked quietly.</p>
<p>"Oh, the usual dragon stuff: Brush its scales, bake a cake, try not to get burned to a crisp by its mouth full of fire," Harry replied. His tone was dripping with sarcasm, and she observed the way he held his body taut, except for his fingers, which were drumming against his leg. He was scared.</p>
<p>"Harry—"</p>
<p>"I know," he added, cutting her off, smiling apologetically, as if he needed to apologize for having fears. And then he told her all about the meeting with Hagrid, about having to get past the dragons, about seeing Madame Maxime and Karkaroff, about what Sirius had to say, and finally, about Ron and Neville interrupting their talk.</p>
<p>"Did anyone see Sirius?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Ron might've."</p>
<p>"Right," Hermione murmured, going over it all in her head. "Well, let's tackle the dragons first."</p>
<p>"I'm not certain that's the best way to get past them," Harry replied, giving her a hollow grin.</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him and tried to smile, but failed, feeling the enormity of the task at hand. She gave her head a little shake: That attitude wouldn't do at all. She now had something to research, she now had something to do. She now had a way to help.</p>
<p>"Let's go to the library," she said, resolute.</p>
<hr/>
<p>And so they went, where they read about everything from treating scale rot to dragon dentistry, but couldn't find anything useful. Neville had joined them after a while, tentative at first, as if he wasn't sure Harry would want him around after last night. Harry didn't seem to notice Neville's hesitation, which might have been the best thing, Hermione thought, because as Harry continued to treat Neville like it was any other Sunday, she saw the shorter boy start to relax.</p>
<p>"A water-making spell?" Neville offered.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "You'd need to create quite a lot to counteract a dragon's fire, and we haven't learned water spells that large yet," she said. "It's supposed to be something simple."</p>
<p>"A banishing charm?" she asked. They were supposed to learn those next term. That must qualify as simple.</p>
<p>Harry looked at her like she'd gone mad. "On a fifty-ft. dragon?" he said incredulously.</p>
<p>"Right."</p>
<p>Harry stared down at his book, his eyes never leaving the same spot on the page—clearly his brain had shut down, and he was panicking.</p>
<p>"Can dragons see through invisibility cloaks?" he asked a bit desperately.</p>
<p>"They'd still be able to smell you," Neville shuddered, and Harry deflated a bit.</p>
<p>Hermione grabbed another book and brushed her hair out of her face. There had to be something.</p>
<p>"Hey guys."</p>
<p>She looked up. It was Dean Thomas, holding a book on the Goblin Rebellion of 1628. He must be writing their History of Magic essay. Hermione had finished it a week ago.</p>
<p>"Hey," Neville said, subtly moving a copy of <em>Standard Book of Spells, Grade One</em>, to hide <em>Dealing With Dragons: Deferring A Dreadful Death.</em></p>
<p>"Hey," Harry added, warily eyeing Dean. She knew what he was thinking: Dean had been hanging out with Ron so much—was he about to brand Harry a liar, too?</p>
<p>But Dean turned to Neville. "You all right?" he asked. "Nasty fall you took last night."</p>
<p>"I'm fine," Neville squeaked, and Dean nodded, his eyes moving to Harry.</p>
<p>"Alright there, Harry? You look a bit green."</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry responded slowly, a bit unsure. "Why?"</p>
<p>"I spent all morning making your banner for Tuesday," Dean told him, grinning. "Want to make sure you don't keel over before the first task."</p>
<p>"You—you made me a banner?"</p>
<p>Harry was surprised, but so was Dean. He was looking at Harry like he had three heads.</p>
<p>"Don't I always?" he asked, bemused.</p>
<p>That was true. Dean was a particularly talented artist, and he always made some sort of sign for Harry's quidditch matches.</p>
<p>"Right—thanks," Harry said, grinning widely, as if he'd just realized there were actually people besides her and Neville who still liked him. Hermione felt a rush of affection for Dean.</p>
<p>"Well, I'd better go get to this," Dean said glumly, pointing to his history book. Neville groaned and Harry nodded at him in commiseration.</p>
<p>"You might want to go straight to chapter 23," Hermione called out, as Dean started to walk away. "There's some useful stuff about Gelric the Ghastly in there."</p>
<p>Dean smiled at her and found a table, and the trio settled back into their research, but regardless of how many books they searched, nothing seemed to be clicking. Then Hermione heard the familiar footsteps of Viktor Krum slouch in.</p>
<p>"Ugh," she groaned. "Let's go back to the common room before his fan club shows up."</p>
<p>But the common room wasn't much better. It was true that Fred and George had done the brotherly thing for Ron the night before, but the twins had clearly decided that 10 hours was long enough to be nice to their little brother, and couldn't pass up the opportunity to cause a bit of mayhem.</p>
<p>Obviously, they said, the whole point of a Potter Stinks button was to chuck it at someone. And so, the common room was alight with people tossing buttons this way and that.</p>
<p>The Gryffindor chasers, no doubt feeling a bit of cabin fever owing to their canceled season, participated in the game with particular relish. Fred and George summoned their beater bats from their dorm, and the five of them began playing the world's weirdest version of quidditch.</p>
<p>Cormac McLaggen took 12 buttons to the face—Ginny had quite good aim—and Seamus entertained Parvati and Lavender by juggling every button they threw at him until he had a bunch going in a circle. Neville kept half ducking under the table to avoid them, and built a tiny fort for his toad, Trevor, out of Hermione's books, once one of Alicia's throws went off course and narrowly missed Trevor.</p>
<p>Not everyone was happy, though. Ron was sitting in the corner, glaring at everybody, but mostly glaring at Harry, as if his brothers' penchant for mischief was Harry's fault. Hermione was very glad indeed that Harry's back was to Ron, so he couldn't see the look on his face, as she was certain it would cause another fight.</p>
<p>She had thought about going over there, but Ginny had tried. Hermione had watched her sit down, put her hand on Ron's arm consolingly, a compassionate look on her face, but Ron had jerked back, and whatever he said to Ginny made her roll her eyes and stalk away.</p>
<p>Hermione doubted she'd fare much better, and in any case, she'd retrieved six more books from her dormitory to sort through, and Harry was racing against time.</p>
<p>"Sorry, Harry," Katie Bell said with a smile, when she landed a button directly on his head. "But I've got to keep up my skills for next year, or you might be after my spot. Who knew seekers had such great aim?"</p>
<p>Ron scowled and Harry, unaware of his reaction, casually tossed the button back to her. Fred nicked it and lobbed it up at Nearly Headless Nick—whose head flopped helplessly to the side when he moved to duck—before it fell into a jug of pumpkin juice, splattering three second years.</p>
<p>Hermione sighed irritably. "Pure chaos," she muttered. "Fred and George are walking, talking chaos."</p>
<p>"C'mon, Hermione," Harry said. "It's not so bad."</p>
<p>He even managed to grin a little—and not the hollow, terrified grin he'd been sporting lately. She suddenly couldn't feel <em>too </em>cross at Fred and George.</p>
<p>The rest of the school was another story. On the way down to dinner—and even in the Great Hall in front of all the teachers—the other houses, having heard the story about Harry and Ron, had added onto their "jokes."</p>
<p>Now, after asking if Harry needed a tissue, they'd dive to the floor, covering their heads, as if Harry were going to chuck something at them.</p>
<p>Harry, of course, didn't, but Fred and George let loose a bag full of buttons—Hermione thought it might've been the entire collection that had been up in Gryffindor Tower—which they had charmed to attack anyone who was wearing a button.</p>
<p>And so, within minutes, the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and especially Slytherin tables were descended upon by these tiny little bludgers—and Dumbledore didn't seem to want to do anything about it. Karkaroff was sneering and Madame Maxime—along with most of the Beauxbatons students—looked scandalized, but Dumbledore was chatting blandly with Professor McGonagall, who Hermione was almost certain had a slight smile on her face. Snape looked downright apoplectic, taking 20 points from Gryffindor for flagrant disregard for the rules, but Flitwick came by a few minutes after he swept out and gave Fred and George fifteen points apiece for what he deemed a clever bit of magic.</p>
<p>It was an amusing interlude, and seemed to serve to brighten Harry's spirits a bit, but as Harry, Neville and Hermione trudged up the stairs to the common room later, she felt her feet getting heavier with every step. The day was gone and they weren't any closer to figuring out what to do. <em>Dragons</em>.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione found herself walking alone to Herbology the next day. Neville had gone to the greenhouses early to speak with Professor Sprout and Harry had gone sprinting after Cedric Diggory.</p>
<p>She began the long walk, the wind whipping at her, and her footfalls fell heavier at every step. She'd spent all night scouring her textbooks for simple spells you could use on a dragon and had come up with nothing. She wasn't used to coming up empty, and she found it was not a feeling she particularly liked, especially when Harry's life was on the line.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath. <em>Quirrell, Basilisk, Dementors. Quirrell, Basilisk, Dementors.</em></p>
<p>A shadow passed over her, and Hermione looked to her right, startled to see Ron speed walking past her.</p>
<p>"Hey!" she called out, speeding up.</p>
<p>Ron half turned. "Oh, speaking to me now, are you?" he asked in a strange, stiff voice.</p>
<p>"What are you talking about?"</p>
<p>"You've made it pretty clear what side you're on," he muttered. "I knew you'd pick him."</p>
<p>Hermione thought that was a bit rich coming from Ron given that Ron and Harry had always picked each other over her, but she ignored that bit for now.</p>
<p>"There are no sides, Ron," Hermione replied.</p>
<p>"Right," he said mockingly. "You haven't spent all weekend ignoring me in favor of him. Even my own brothers are on his side with that stupid game. Do you know how much I got laughed at yesterday?"</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. She didn't usually approve of Fred and George's behavior, finding that most of their jokes either created bedlam or came at someone's expense. But she didn't think that Fred and George had been <em>trying </em>to embarrass Ron as part of some convoluted plan to show him they liked Harry better. She understood why Ron was resentful toward his brothers, but she didn't see what it had to do with Harry—or her for that matter.</p>
<p>"I'm very sorry your brothers hurt you. Honestly!" Hermione said, before hesitating and adding, "But I don't think... Isn't this just what Fred and George do? It wasn't their way of picking a side, it was just them seeing an opportunity to cause chaos and taking it."</p>
<p>"You don't need to explain my own brothers to me, Hermione."</p>
<p>"Fine," she said, "but I don't see what any of that has to do with me."</p>
<p>"Because you're just like them!" he roared.</p>
<p>"In case you haven't noticed, <em>I'm</em> the one who's been trying to get you and Harry to talk to each other for the past few weeks, and <em>you're</em> the one who keeps telling me to mind my own business," Hermione snapped, feeling irritable.</p>
<p>"And while we're on the subject of things that are my business, why didn't you ever tell me that the Dursleys locked Harry up!" she added angrily.</p>
<p>"What?" Ron was bewildered.</p>
<p>"Your brothers told me about your trip in the car to Harry's house, how there were bars on his window and a cat flap on his door," Hermione informed him. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"</p>
<p>"Why are we talking about this <em>now</em>?"</p>
<p>"Because you never told me <em>then</em>!" Hermione was exasperated.</p>
<p>Ron looked uncomfortable and tugged at his collar. "Well, because," he sputtered. "Harry didn't say anything so why should I? It was his…"</p>
<p>He trailed off, gesturing helplessly. "What does it even matter now?" he asked irritably. Hermione wasn't sure if he meant because it was years ago or because he and Harry were no longer speaking, but either way, she still felt cross.</p>
<p>"It matters because we should care when our friends get locked up," she muttered testily. "But I forgot, you're not big on people having freedom."</p>
<p>Ron was silent for a moment, but then scoffed. "How did we get to house elves?" he asked bitterly and a bit astonished. "Tell me, Hermione, is there anything at all you don't find irritating about me?"</p>
<p>He was scowling, but he also looked a little lost, and Hermione felt a bit guilty. She <em>was </em>mad at Ron for not telling her, and she <em>did</em> think his attitude toward house elves was positively barbaric, but the main thing she should be focused on now was fixing things between the three of them.</p>
<p>"Look," she said, in what she hoped was a placating voice, "I haven't been ignoring you. But the task is tomorrow. You're both my friends, but Harry needs me more right now."</p>
<p>"Of course he does," Ron said in that stiff voice once again. "He always comes first."</p>
<p>"Yes, Ron," she agreed. "Sorry if I think dementors and basilisks are more pressing concerns than your ego."</p>
<p>Ron sputtered a bit, but then surprised her by asking, "Is that what the first task is?"</p>
<p>"How would I know what the first task is?"</p>
<p>Ron looked at her skeptically.</p>
<p>Avoiding the question, she asked, "How much did you see last night?"</p>
<p>"You mean, did I see Sirius' head floating in the common room like he and Harry were about to sit down for some tea?" Ron asked.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, feeling the uneasiness wash through her. Sirius had been seconds away from being caught by half of Gryffindor. If Seamus and Dean and the rest of the boys had come down the stairs a few seconds earlier, it would have been awful. Sirius had risked everything to be there for Harry, and if Harry lost the man he was coming to think of like family, she wasn't sure what would happen. She could feel Harry about to snap, like a fraying rope being stretched to its limits, and Sirius was one of the few things keeping him whole.</p>
<p>Ron clearly didn't like the look on her face because he narrowed his eyes, ears reddening.</p>
<p>"Oh, come on," he said, his voice sounding strangled. "You really think I'm going to go tell someone about that, sic the Ministry on Sirius? Just how low is your opinion of me?"</p>
<p>Hermione felt instantly bad. Of course Ron would keep Harry's secret about Sirius. She <em>knew</em> that. She'd just been so wrapped up in Harry's problems, in what could have happened to Sirius, she'd waited too long to speak and Ron had misinterpreted her silence.</p>
<p>"I didn't think—"</p>
<p>"Right." His voice was full of bitterness.</p>
<p>"Of course I don't think you'd do that," she said, turning to look at Ron, wanting him to see her face as she said it, see that she was being truthful. They'd reached the greenhouse and Ron went toward the workstation on the left, but he turned back to look at her, and she wasn't sure if he believed her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Good luck, Harry," Hermione whispered. "You'll be fine."</p>
<p>She watched him walk out of the Great Hall and toward the dragon enclosure with Professor McGonagall with trepidation. <em>Quirrell, basilisk, dementors.</em></p>
<p>She had felt a lot better this morning. After Harry told her Professor Moody's advice about the first task, they'd spent all day Monday—with a small break for Divination and Arithmancy—practicing the summoning charm so he could retrieve his Firebolt. They'd even skipped lunch and dinner—Neville had brought them up sandwiches, and then sat in the classroom quietly writing his Astronomy essay while they practiced.</p>
<p>It had been hard work, but Hermione was fully confident that Harry had mastered it, and he'd be able to get his Firebolt just fine. It was the bit after that which worried her.</p>
<p>"C'mon," Neville said, quietly. "Let's go get good seats."</p>
<p>They found seats right in the center of the stands, surrounded by the rest of Gryffindor house. Dean hung the banner that he'd made for Harry, and Lee Jordan was taking bets on the outcome of the match. Hermione felt very much like throwing up.</p>
<p>She saw Ron walking up the stands and gave him half a wave, uncertain that he would respond. He moved toward her, climbing past the Creevey brothers, who both looked like they had had a few too many Fizzing Whizbees.</p>
<p>Ron looked very white as he came to sit next to her. "I've just seen Charlie," he whispered, a bit dazed. "Is it really dragons?"</p>
<p>The dragon handlers brought out a blueish-grey Swedish Short-Snout.</p>
<p>"Yep," she responded, resignation in her voice and fear filling her. She had known it was going to be dragons, but seeing them made it real in a way that it hadn't been before. She tried to breathe, but found it hard and suddenly, she felt very hot all over. She loosened her scarf, wanting to feel the cool air—to help keep her from panicking—and tossed it carelessly on the seat behind her. The wind was bitter against her neck, but it shocked her into focus.</p>
<p>Cedric Diggory was first. Hermione didn't want to watch but couldn't look away. When the right side of his face was caught in fire, the crowd reacted in horror, and she heard her own voice whimper and felt her knees buckle, picturing a shorter, darker-haired boy in his place.</p>
<p>
  <em>Quirrell, basilisk, dementors. Quirrell, basilisk, dementors. Quirrell, basilisk, dementors.</em>
</p>
<p>She felt a pudgy, clammy hand squeeze hers, and tore her face away from Cedric—who had managed to get away from the dragon—to look at Neville. He looked rather nauseated, his eyes wide and lip trembling, but he gave her a small smile and she smiled back, grateful for the friendship. She turned to watch Cedric make it past the dragons and caught the scowl on Ron's face as he watched not the enclosure, but their clasped hands.</p>
<p>Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum were next, and Hermione watched in horror, screaming when Fleur's skirt caught fire and flinching when Krum made the dragon trample half the eggs. In no time at all, it was Harry's turn.</p>
<p>Hermione felt her indignation rising as Harry's dragon was brought out and she saw it had spikes on its tail. She wasn't alone.</p>
<p>"That's not fair!" Lee Jordan shouted. "Everyone else just has to deal with fire, but Harry gets a deadly tail, too?" He then said something very rude that would've gotten 10 points taken from Gryffindor had any of the professors been able to hear it over the crowd.</p>
<p>She vaguely noticed that the Gryffindors around them were shaking their heads in agreement but she was too busy mouthing "Accio Firebolt" under her breath, as if by saying it, she could help Harry get his broom. Stupid, of course, but she didn't dare stop lest it was somehow helping.</p>
<p>Harry looked up at the dragon, face resolute, but his eyes full of fear. His voice trembled a bit when he shouted for his broom, his wand motion a little jerky, as if he had just woken up from a 20-year sleep and was moving his arm for the first time. He didn't blink, and Hermione wanted to cry at the fright she saw in his eyes. She felt the dread filling her, and tried to tamp it down. <em>No</em>, she thought. Their plan would work.</p>
<p>And then she heard the familiar whoosh of his Firebolt. As he climbed on and soared upward, Hermione watched as his eyes narrowed in determination and his entire demeanor changed, becoming more relaxed, before he was too high above them, too small to see.</p>
<p>He dove.</p>
<p>She clutched her fingers under her eyes, fingernails digging in, serving to both force her eyes open and give her something to do with her hands while she fretted. <em>Quirrell, basilisk, dementors.</em></p>
<p>Harry dove again, and this time one of the spikes hit his shoulder. Hermione flinched, feeling the pain as if it were her own. "Oh," she cried, trying—and failing—to push back the tears. Neville whimpered, clutching the rail in front of him, and Ron made some sort of strangled noise in his throat. She couldn't look at either of them—somehow, she thought, though it had absolutely no basis in logic, if she took her eyes off Harry, something even more terrible would happen. <em>Quirrell, basilisk, dementors</em>.</p>
<p>Hermione watched as Harry drew the dragon out, coaxing her away from the eggs, before diving on a burst of speed. And suddenly, he was flying over her triumphantly, egg in hand.</p>
<p>Hermione blinked. It was over. He was alive. Charlie Weasley and the other dragon handlers had taken over, and Harry never had to think about another dragon again. She watched as he landed, brushing the remaining tears from her eyes, and suddenly felt her feet moving.</p>
<p>"Come on," she shouted, and Ron started to follow, but then Neville joined her, and Ron stopped dead in his tracks.</p>
<p>"Aren't you coming?" she asked Ron, exasperated. Ron, impossibly pale, glanced at Neville, and shook his head. Hermione let out a yelp of aggravation and turned back toward Harry.</p>
<p>It took them awhile to get through the stands—no one seemed to want to move, eager to hear the scores, though most were sitting down now, waiting. Hermione was fairly certain she kicked three people in her effort to get to Harry, but she didn't care. Finally, she and Neville were at the first-aid tent and darted inside.</p>
<p>"Harry, you were brilliant!" she cried, and she knew her voice sounded far too squeaky for her liking.</p>
<p>Harry stood up, looking a bit sweaty and with his windswept hair sticking out in more directions than usual, but his eyes were calmer than they'd been in weeks, no longer lined with worry, and he was grinning—a grateful, triumphant sort of smile.</p>
<p>"Seriously," Neville said, his voice low and awed.</p>
<p>"You were amazing! You really were!" Hermione added.</p>
<p>She moved to hug him, but hesitated, afraid of hurting his injured arm; but then like an impulse she couldn't contain, she'd thrown her arms around him, clutching him tight, face burrowed between his good shoulder and his neck. Hermione felt Harry tentatively pat her back, beginning to return the hug, but his movements were unsure. They always were—he clearly was not used to basic displays of affection, which made her hug him harder and burst into tears.</p>
<p>Harry's hands were firmer on her back now, and she realized her tears were soaking his cloak.</p>
<p>"Sorry," she muttered, pulling away and patting the wet spot.</p>
<p>"There's nothing to cry about," Harry told her, a bit bewildered. "I'm fine!"</p>
<p>This only made her cry more.</p>
<p>But it was a good sort of cry. All of the fear, all of the tension, all of the worry she'd felt since Halloween flowed out of her body, and Hermione felt relief for the first time in weeks. Oh, there were still two tasks to worry about, but the first one was over, and Harry was okay.</p>
<p>"I'm fine," Harry repeated, as Neville handed her a tissue.</p>
<p>Harry gave her a smile, and she couldn't help but grin back. He was fine.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"I'm fine," Harry repeated, grateful when Neville found a tissue and Hermione wiped her eyes. He gave her a small smile, and was relieved to see she grinned back. He was never sure what you were supposed to do when a girl cried, but he didn't like it when Hermione did, and was pleased that his and Neville's response had seemed to work.</p>
<p>"Sorry," she muttered. "It's just…<em>dragons</em>."</p>
<p>"Bit bigger than Norbert, eh?" Harry asked, laughing for the first time in weeks.</p>
<p>"Just a smidge," Hermione returned, while Neville looked between them, puzzled. He was about to say something when Professor McGonagall entered the first-aid tent.</p>
<p>"Potter," she said, "Is Poppy done? You're needed for the scores."</p>
<p>They followed her out and Harry watched in disbelief as his scores were revealed: an eight from Madame Maxime, nines from Crouch and Dumbledore, and a 10 from Bagman. Neville was jumping up and down beside him, and Hermione was clutching his arm, tugging on his sleeve at each number. Finally, Karkaroff gave him a four, and to his amazement, all of the Gryffindors, and even many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, shouted furiously. It seems all he had to do was battle a dragon to get them on his side again, but he didn't care. He was no longer the school pariah, he had two friends at his side, and he'd survived the first task. More than survived, it seems, because as Charlie Weasley informed him, Harry was tied in first place with Krum.</p>
<p>"Brilliant," Neville breathed, as they started to walk toward the champions tent to see Bagman, as Charlie had instructed him to do.</p>
<p>"It certainly was."</p>
<p>After an initial jolt of shock, Harry felt even more cheerful when he turned to see that that voice did indeed belong to Professor Lupin, who was leaning against the now emptying stands, smiling at him.</p>
<p>"Professor," he said, stunned. "What are you doing here?"</p>
<p>"I got your letter," Lupin replied, greeting Hermione and Neville—the former looked elated and the latter looked confused—and Harry remembered, with some embarrassment, the missive he'd sent to Lupin in a panic. He barely remembered what he wrote and hoped it wasn't anything too certifiable.</p>
<p>"Just last night in fact, and I thought I'd come watch the first task," Lupin added. "I'm delighted to see that you performed admirably without my help, but of that, I had no doubt."</p>
<p>"Thank you." Harry grinned.</p>
<p>"I didn't realize anyone could just come and watch the match," Hermione said, a curious look on her face.</p>
<p>"They can when they're friends with the headmaster," Lupin answered her, smiling.</p>
<p>They had reached the tent, and Harry paused before entering. "Are you… will you be around awhile?"</p>
<p>"As a matter of fact, I'm having dinner with Professor Dumbledore," Lupin replied. "But if you have some time, I'd love to catch up beforehand. Though I daresay you probably want to celebrate with your friends."</p>
<p>"Oh, Fred and George never start the celebrations until after Professor McGonagall has retired for the night," Hermione said quickly. She paused before adding dryly, and with a hint of disapproval, "They don't see the point in having secret parties unless it causes her maximum aggravation."</p>
<p>"She's right," Harry added, grinning. "If you don't mind waiting while I do this?" He gestured toward the tent.</p>
<p>"Not at all," Lupin replied. And he, Hermione and Neville chatted amiably while Harry went inside.</p>
<p>The meeting was short. Bagman told them the next task wouldn't be until February 24th—three whole months of freedom—and gave them each an egg, instructing them that a clue was inside.</p>
<p>When Harry exited the tent, Lupin was alone. "Where'd Hermione and Neville go?" he asked, looking around.</p>
<p>"Hermione said there was something they needed to do."</p>
<p>Harry frowned. What could be so important that he didn't know about?</p>
<p>"I gathered she was trying to give us some time to talk without interruptions. She was rather unsubtle about it," Lupin revealed wryly, smiling affectionately.</p>
<p>They began the long walk up to the castle and Harry caught snippets of conversation around them, gratified to hear how many people were supporting him.</p>
<p>"And he just summoned a Firebolt—a <em>Firebolt</em>—from clear across the grounds—"</p>
<p>"Viktor Krum couldn't have done it—"</p>
<p>"And then he just dove—"</p>
<p>"I knew he could do it. The way he flattened me last year when I was tailing him for the snitch? He's amazing on a broom."</p>
<p>That last one was Cho Chang, and Harry felt his face grow hot and his stomach did a curious kind of flip at her praise.</p>
<p>Harry wanted to ask Lupin if he'd heard from Sirius, but thought it'd be better to wait until they were alone. As they rounded a clump of trees, Harry was suddenly glad that he had refrained because they walked straight into Rita Skeeter, Quick-Quotes Quill at the ready, wanting to ask Harry how he felt about the dragons and whether the scoring was fair.</p>
<p>She spoke quickly, animatedly, but Lupin frowned at her.</p>
<p>"I thought Albus Dumbledore forbade you from the Hogwarts grounds," he said.</p>
<p>"Oh, hello," Rita Skeeter sniffed, sneering at Lupin, as if she'd just noticed he was there. "Who are you again?"</p>
<p>Lupin ignored her. "Come along, Harry."</p>
<p>He put his hand on Harry's shoulder and guided him away, back toward the castle.</p>
<p>"It's just a quick word," Rita called out.</p>
<p>"Here's a word for you: Goodbye," Harry called over his shoulder.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They made it up to the castle quickly, getting stopped only twice. The first was Seamus and Dean. Both had congratulated Harry, and then Dean excitedly asked Lupin if he were coming back to teach.</p>
<p>"You were the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor we ever had!" he exclaimed.</p>
<p>"Not that it's a high bar," Seamus muttered, before adding, "But you were really excellent by regular standards, too."</p>
<p>"Moody's pretty good—"</p>
<p>"Again," Seamus said, "the bar is basically on the floor—"</p>
<p>"But what they did to you is outrageous," Dean finished.</p>
<p>Lupin, for his part, seemed touched by the praise.</p>
<p>The second stop was Professor McGonagall, who offered up the use of her office for their chat. When they arrived, tea and sandwiches were already set for them.</p>
<p>"Ah, Minerva," Lupin said, a ghost of a smile on his face. "She really does think of everything."</p>
<p>"Don't let Hermione hear you say that," Harry warned. "You'll get a lecture on how house elves actually do all the work."</p>
<p>Harry put a stack of sandwiches on his plate, feeling hunger for the first time in weeks, as Lupin poured the tea.</p>
<p>"So Hermione has taken on the house elves' cause?" Lupin asked. Harry nodded, telling him all about S.P.E.W., and Lupin smiled wider. Harry looked at him curiously.</p>
<p>"You can imagine, Harry, that I'm somewhat sympathetic to witches and wizards who champion the rights of magical beings," Lupin said, in answer to the question Harry did not ask. "It does not surprise me at all that Hermione has taken up that mantle."</p>
<p>"But you're not like—you're a wizard!" he exclaimed, and instantly wished he hadn't said it. Harry recalled how Hermione had kept Lupin's secret for months, not even telling him and Ron, all because she didn't feel it was right to persecute Lupin for something he had no control over. It surprised him that Lupin identified so closely with the house elves, but then it struck him that it shouldn't—werewolves weren't exactly treated kindly by the wizarding world either, and with a flash of anger at the prejudice Lupin faced, Harry felt more positively toward S.P.E.W. than he ever had before.</p>
<p>Lupin smiled warmly at Harry, and then tactfully changed the subject.</p>
<p>"And I see you've become close with Neville, too?" Lupin asked, picking up a sandwich.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry replied. "He's really had my back with this whole Triwizard Tournament."</p>
<p>Harry felt a pain in his stomach as he finished that thought in his head. <em>Unlike Ron</em>. Something must have shown on his face because Lupin looked at him expectantly, patiently waiting for him to talk.</p>
<p>"Professor?"</p>
<p>"I'm not your professor anymore, Harry; I'm just an old friend of your father's," he said wistfully. "Please call me Remus."</p>
<p>"Right," Harry said. "Well, it's just… It's Ron."</p>
<p>He didn't continue, not wanting to rehash this whole thing again, not wanting to think about the feelings he'd had the past few weeks, how rotten it had been. And yet, he wanted someone to talk to, someone who didn't have their own relationship with Ron influencing their advice. And Sirius wasn't exactly available at the moment.</p>
<p>"I noticed he wasn't with you during the scoring," Lupin said carefully, and then waited once again for Harry to speak.</p>
<p>"We haven't talked in weeks," Harry finally explained, sadness and anger warring for control of him. "He's jealous—he thinks I lied, put my name in the Goblet of Fire."</p>
<p>"Hmm," Lupin said, looking contemplatively at Harry.</p>
<p>"I know it sounds stupid," Harry said in a rushed voice. "Like it's not a big deal, but…"</p>
<p>"Your feelings are never stupid, Harry," Lupin said firmly, in a quiet, clear voice that left no room for argument.</p>
<p>When Harry didn't respond, Lupin asked, "How are you feeling?"</p>
<p>Harry could feel his face grow hotter—he wasn't particularly used to having this sort of discussion seeing as how for most of his life, he lived with the Dursleys, and they didn't care one way or another how he felt—as long as he was out of the way, that was good enough for them. He looked down at his teacup and shrugged, but that didn't seem to be a good enough answer for Lupin, who was still watching him closely.</p>
<p>"Angry," he finally replied. "Hurt."</p>
<p>Harry trailed off, unsure how to ask the question he wanted to ask. He'd never had a friend before Ron, and they hadn't fought ever. Sure, Harry had stopped speaking to Hermione last year when she told Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt, but on a fundamental level, he had always known that she had done it<em> for </em>him. Her actions aggravated him, but her motives didn't, and it made it easy for them to move on as friends when it was over. But this? Ron had turned his back on Harry for no reason other than jealousy. What was he supposed to do with that?</p>
<p>"You know, Harry, I didn't have many friends before Hogwarts. None, in fact," Lupin said quietly. "And I didn't expect to ever have any. I didn't expect to ever go to Hogwarts. Werewolves don't live particularly social lives."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, understanding that Lupin was putting into words how Harry felt, how life at the Dursleys had been like, without making Harry actually say it.</p>
<p>"And then I came here," Lupin said, looking around in wonder. "And I met your father and Sirius and Peter." His voice broke on that last word, a bitter sound that Harry felt in his very bones as he thought about the man who was the reason why Sirius was on the run, the reason why his parents were dead.</p>
<p>"It was the most wonderful feeling, having friends," Lupin said. "Even better when they found out my secret and still wanted me around. Friendships forged with that kind of bond—they're precious."</p>
<p>"So… you're saying I should forgive Ron?"</p>
<p>"I'm saying that I was a boy who had never known friendship, never known what I was worth," Remus continued quietly, eyeing Harry carefully. "We told you about the joke Sirius played on Severus."</p>
<p>Harry nodded. Sirius had told Snape how to get past the Whomping Willow one night during the full moon, and Harry's dad had stopped Snape from being attacked by Lupin in his wolf form. And, he thought miserably, Snape had told him his dad had been in on the joke.</p>
<p>"When I found out about it the next day," Lupin said, "it didn't even occur to me to be mad about it. I was so used to thinking I was worth nothing, I didn't realize I deserved better from my friends. Your father showed me that, Harry. He was so angry at Sirius for what he'd done, all on my account, and it showed me that I should be angry too."</p>
<p>Harry looked at Lupin in wonder, hope rising in his chest. "But Snape said that my dad was in on it."</p>
<p>"No, Harry," Lupin said sharply. "Your dad wasn't perfect, but one thing about him you should never question: He would never harm a friend. And that's what Sirius' joke would have done. If I had attacked Severus that night as a werewolf, what do you think the Ministry would have done to me?"</p>
<p>Harry wasn't sure, but he felt his stomach lurch in fear as he thought of the possibilities.</p>
<p>"Now, I'm not saying that what Ron has done is anywhere in the same league as what Sirius did," Lupin said, shaking his head. "But, I know what it's like to have a friend do or say something that hurts you. And I also know what it's like to be a boy who's so used to being alone that he doesn't realize he deserves better."</p>
<p>Harry stared intently at his teacup, avoiding Lupin's face.</p>
<p>Finally, he asked, "So… you don't think I should forgive Ron?"</p>
<p>"I'm not saying that either," he said. "I forgave Sirius—your dad and I both did—but it took work. He apologized, he changed his behavior—"</p>
<p>"He didn't seem that sorry about it in the Shrieking Shack last year," Harry pointed out, remembering how Sirius had said that Snape would've gotten what he deserved if he'd reached Lupin.</p>
<p>"Yes, well, it's more complicated than that," Remus said. "Sirius was sorry for what he almost did to me, but he was never sorry for what almost happened to Severus. There was too much bad blood between them for that."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, trying to figure out how all of this applied to him and Ron. Ron hadn't almost gotten him sent to Azkaban or anything, but he <em>had</em> hurt Harry. It wasn't something he had wanted to admit to anybody—how sad it made him that Ron hadn't believed him after a lifetime of constantly being called a liar by the Dursleys for whatever accidental magic he had done.</p>
<p>"So… what do you think I should do?"</p>
<p>"I can't answer that for you," Remus said softly. "No one can. I do know there's no shame in forgiveness—I'd say it's one of the bravest things a man can do. But if your dad taught me anything, it's that we don't have to accept friendships where we aren't treated right. You don't have to apologize for who you are, Harry, and you don't have to settle for a friendship overtaken by jealousy or mistrust. There's no shame in forgiveness, but if Ron isn't willing to meet you halfway, to do the work, there's also nothing wrong with demanding better for yourself."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, feeling more confused than ever. Lupin—Remus—had given him a lot to think about.</p>
<p>"I do know one thing," Remus added, a smile upon his face once again, his eyes bright. "Your dad would've been very proud of you today."</p>
<p>Harry smiled, and his eyes felt uncomfortably misty as he glanced away, focusing on the golden egg Bagman had given him.</p>
<p>"What do you suppose it is?" Remus asked, following his gaze, and Harry was grateful for the distraction.</p>
<p>"Only one way to find out," Harry said, as he strode across the room to open it.</p>
<p>It was empty, but almost immediately a loud wail exploded in the room, shrieking and screeching like someone magnified the volume of nails on a blackboard to a deafening decibel. Harry slammed the egg shut, wincing, as Remus shook his ear out.</p>
<p>"What in Merlin's name was that?" Harry spat, looking at the offending object accusingly. But Remus looked contemplative.</p>
<p>"I'm not sure," he said, slowly, and Harry could see his wheels turning. "This isn't my area of expertise, but I think it might be another language."</p>
<p>"Which one?" Harry asked. It didn't sound like any language he'd ever heard, but then, he didn't think the Triwizard judges would give him a clue in German or Japanese.</p>
<p>"No idea," Remus said. "But there are hundreds of magical languages. Leprechauns alone have 12 different languages that we know of, though they rarely speak any of them in front of humans."</p>
<p>Okay, so he was looking for some kind of magical language where the speakers made horrific, ear-splitting sounds. He could work with that.</p>
<p>"Thanks," he said, already feeling better about the second task than he had about the first.</p>
<p>They talked some more—Remus had spoken to Sirius, but didn't know exactly where he was—and when it came time to leave, Harry wasn't sure how to say goodbye—but then Remus patted him on the shoulder in what Harry could only imagine was a fatherly way, and handed him two sickles.</p>
<p>"For Hermione," he clarified. "For S.P.E.W. membership."</p>
<p>Harry grinned. "This'll make her day."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry ran up to the Owlery to write Sirius a letter detailing his performance in the task—though he maybe went into a bit too much detail of every curve and swerve of his broom, because when he was finished, it was much heavier than usual.</p>
<p>After dispatching one of the school owls—and feeding Hedwig some treats to keep her from being cross—Harry returned to the Gryffindor common room to find a "surprise" party for him in full swing. There were fireworks, banners detailing his success—compliments of Dean—and more cakes and butterbeer than they could possibly consume in a week. Lee Jordan tried to get Harry to open the egg, but Hermione reminded them that Harry was supposed to work it out on his own.</p>
<p>At Harry's reminder that he was supposed to work out the dragon on his own too—something he muttered privately to her—Hermione grinned guiltily. The others continued to call for the egg to be opened.</p>
<p>"Honestly," Harry warned them. "I've already opened it. You don't want to hear it."</p>
<p>George took that as some sort of challenge, opening the egg himself, and filling the party with the cries of the world's loudest dying cat. He swiftly snapped it shut.</p>
<p>"Right," he said, nodding, stepping away slowly. "Best not to do that again."</p>
<p>Everyone laughed, everyone but Neville, who looked shaken.</p>
<p>"Neville?" Hermione asked tentatively, drawing him and Harry to the side. "Is everything all right?"</p>
<p>"It sounded like someone being tortured," he whispered, his eyes filling with tears that he furiously tried to push back. "Like the Cruciatus Curse."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at Harry in alarm, then whispered, "Come on," grabbed Neville's arm and moved swiftly toward the boys dormitory. Neville sat silently on his bed, while Harry and Hermione shared his, facing their friend.</p>
<p>"Neville?" Hermione said, his name a question. Harry looked at his shoes, thinking Neville would rather not like Harry seeing him crying.</p>
<p>Neville was silent.</p>
<p>"Neville," Hermione tried again, glancing between him and Harry, pushing some hair behind her ears. "Neville, do you mind if I ask why you live with your grandmother?"</p>
<p>Neville had a stricken look upon his face, and Harry felt terrible for never wondering the exact same thing. How many years had he known Neville?</p>
<p>"You don't have to tell us," Hermione said quietly. "But, we won't… we're not…"</p>
<p>Harry looked up and caught Neville's gaze. "We're your friends," Harry said simply.</p>
<p>Neville nodded, and there was a strange look on his face, making Harry wonder with a sick twist in his gut just what Neville's first three years at Hogwarts had been like, sharing a dorm with Harry and Ron, and Seamus and Dean, two pairs of inseparable best friends.</p>
<p>"My parents were aurors," Neville finally croaked out, as if his voice didn't want to work. "They were tortured."</p>
<p>Hermione sprang from Harry's bed and sat on Neville's, clutching his hand consolingly, which seemed to comfort Neville a bit. Harry couldn't help but sit there stunned, mentally kicking himself for never asking, for never finding out. There'd been a war going on when he'd been a kid—of course he wasn't the only one with tragedy in his past. But he'd never bothered to ask.</p>
<p>"Are they—" Hermione couldn't bring herself to finish the question, to ask if they were dead.</p>
<p>"No," Neville shook his head. "The Cruciatus Curse doesn't kill. But if you use it on someone long enough, they lose their minds—can't remember anything or anyone. They're trapped in their own heads."</p>
<p>"What sort of person would do this?" Hermione asked, horrified, but she knew exactly who.</p>
<p>"The Lestranges," Neville said bitterly. "And Barty Crouch's son."</p>
<p>At their surprised looks, he added, "He died in Azkaban years ago. But the others are still there."</p>
<p>"I'm sorry, Neville," Harry said, and Neville looked up at him, shocked.</p>
<p>"Well, you—you have it worse than me," Neville replied, but Harry wasn't sure that was right. He remember Remus telling him about the dementor's kiss last year, how it sucked out someone's soul, how it was a fate worse than death. He couldn't imagine seeing your parents in the flesh, but having them be a husk of their former selves, not even able to recognize you or know you're important to them. Neville must've been terribly lonely.</p>
<p>"Nothing about what happened to either of you is right," Hermione said vehemently, her face a torrent of fury, sadness and helplessness. She shook her head violently, and then, looking for something to do, she handed Neville a tissue, and he wiped his eyes.</p>
<p>They sat there in silence for a few minutes, though it wasn't an uneasy one. Neville's eyes were still red, but he looked contemplative and a bit like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. And, after the day Harry had, he was just glad to be sitting someplace safe with his two friends.</p>
<p>"Who's Norbert?" Neville finally asked, shocking Harry out of his musings. Whatever he was expecting Neville to say it wasn't that.</p>
<p>Harry looked at Hermione, who was looking back at him, silently communicating that they owed Neville the truth. Harry agreed.</p>
<p>"You talked about him in the first-aid tent before," Neville continued, incorrectly reading their silence as confusion.</p>
<p>"Do you remember when we got that detention in the forbidden forest?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"How could I forget?" Neville shuddered.</p>
<p>"Do you remember why we got that detention?" Hermione continued.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Neville said. "I was trying to warn you that Malfoy knew about the… dragon."</p>
<p>He stopped, looking between both of them, and Harry remembered the look of betrayal on Neville's face when he thought he was just collateral damage caught up in their war with Malfoy. "So… there really was a dragon?"</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione nodded.</p>
<p>"And… it was named <em>Norbert</em>?"</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione nodded again.</p>
<p>"Where did you <em>find</em> a dragon?"</p>
<p>"Hagrid," they said.</p>
<p>"Oh," Neville replied, nodding his head. "Right. That makes sense."</p>
<p>He was silent for a moment more, confusion clouding his face. "You could've told me the truth," he said. "After Professor McGonagall was gone. I never would've said anything to anyone, and it would've been nice…"</p>
<p>He trailed off, but Harry knew what he meant: It would've been nice to know you hadn't been playing a cruel trick, not caring that I got hurt by it, too.</p>
<p>"We know," Hermione said quickly, with Harry nodding his agreement. "We're sorry."</p>
<p>Neville nodded, but soon the contemplative look had returned, as if he were working through something in his head.</p>
<p>Harry was struck once again by Neville's confusion earlier in the day when Remus had said he had received Harry's letter. Of course Neville was confused—he thought Harry's secret meeting the other night was with Lupin, but why would Harry be sending letters when he was supposed to be talking to Lupin by Floo?</p>
<p>Harry looked at Neville, this boy who had stood by him when no one but Hermione had, this boy who always tried to help Harry, who just trusted Harry with his deepest secret, his most painful truth. And at that moment, more than anything, Harry wanted to tell Neville the truth about Lupin before he could ask about it; he wanted to be the sort of friend Neville deserved.</p>
<p>"I wasn't talking to Lupin the other night by Floo," Harry said quickly. Hermione looked up, alarmed, while Neville looked curious. "I was talking to my godfather—Sirius Black."</p>
<p>"But he's—"</p>
<p>"No," Hermione said firmly, getting on board with Harry's plan. "He's not anything the Ministry's been saying he is."</p>
<p>And so they told Neville an abridged version of what had happened last year—the truth about Scabbers and how they'd saved Sirius and Buckbeak. Neville gasped and groaned in all the right places, and in the end, stared at both of them with wonder in his voice.</p>
<p>"How on earth do you two manage to get any work done ever?" he asked, earning a laugh from Hermione.</p>
<p>Then he grew silent, and his face was solemn as he looked Harry directly in the eye. "I won't tell anyone," he swore.</p>
<p>Harry nodded. "I know."</p>
<p>They returned downstairs where the party was still going in full force. Harry noticed Ron sitting in the corner, and while he no longer looked at Harry with sheer contempt, he still looked a bit sullen, and had made no moves to fix anything between them. Harry heard Remus' voice in his head—forgiveness had to be earned—and put Ron out of his mind.</p>
<p>Fred offered up a plate of sweets to them, pointing out the custard creams to Neville, but at a warning look from Harry, Fred told the shorter boy to go for a jam tart. A few minutes later, an unsuspecting Colin Creevey turned into a canary thanks to the twins' custard creams, which they'd aptly named Canary Creams. Everyone laughed, though Harry noticed Neville didn't until Colin had returned to normal, delighted at the transformation, and asked for another.</p>
<p>For her part, Hermione was very pleased because she managed to trick Fred into telling her how to get into the kitchens, and Harry, remembering Remus' sickles, handed them over to her, explaining that she had a new member for S.P.E.W. Hermione beamed, and as Harry looked around at his friends—Hermione and Neville chatting away over a plate of jam tarts, Fred and George delighting everyone with fireworks, Lee and Seamus holding some sort of butterbeer fountain-making contest that Dean was judging, and Angelina, Katie and Alicia tossing the last few remaining Potter Stinks buttons at each other over by the sofas—Harry couldn't help but feel that this had been a very good day.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two days after the first task, Hermione heard the familiar rush of hundreds of owls descending upon the Great Hall, as they always did at breakfast, and felt a bit of trepidation.</p><p>It only grew when she saw the front page of the <em>Daily Prophet</em>, featuring a large photo of Harry diving away from the dragon and a headline that read "Danger at the Triwizard Tournament." It was by Rita Skeeter.</p><p>She groaned as she unfolded it to read.</p><p>
  <em>Witches and wizards all over the country were quaking in fear for Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, when they learned he had been named Hogwarts' Champion in the Triwizard Tournament, despite only being a fourth-year student (well below the eligibility age. This, of course, calls into question just how secure Albus Dumbledore's safety measures could possibly be if a fourteen-year-old boy was able to get past the very first one).</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But our readers needn't have feared, for our tragic hero did the parents he so desperately misses and wishes to impress proud with his daring theatrics against a Hungarian Horntail, tying for first place with Durmstrang Champion Viktor Krum. Though Krum is the internationally well-known Quidditch seeker, it was Harry Potter who dodged and weaved on his Firebolt, delighting the crowds. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>But sadly, this reporter has found, it's not the dragons that the boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named should have feared: No, a more sinister threat lurks about Harry Potter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>While Albus Dumbledore is known for his interesting and controversial teaching posts, last year, the wizarding world was scandalized to learn he had employed werewolf Remus Lupin as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. (One has to wonder if this dangerous magical creature was teaching his students more than just defense.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>As one Hogwarts student put it, "The bar isn't set high; the bar is basically on the floor" when it comes to Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>When parents found out, outraged at the prospect that this creature—which has a XXXXX Ministry of Magic classification—had access to their children, he was immediately sacked but not before, a high-ranking Ministry official tells me, he neglected to take the potion that tempers werewolves' lethal tendencies, running around the school grounds during a full moon, where he could have killed any number of students who wandered off in the wrong direction. (Whether or not this neglect was a callous disregard for the safety of Hogwarts students, the inept actions of an unqualified man or a blatant and insidious attempt to attack wizarding children is anyone's guess.)</em>
</p><p>
  <em>In fact, according to the Ministry official, the Boy Who Lived had a very near miss with the werewolf that very night. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Despite the cover up of this outrageous incident, one would think Lupin wouldn't ever be allowed on Hogwarts grounds again. But not only was he at Hogwarts this past Tuesday, watching the first task, but the faculty of Hogwarts, in their infinite wisdom, allowed the werewolf to have unrestricted access to Harry Potter, leaving them alone together.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>According to several Hogwarts students, the Boy Who Lived and Lupin had developed a special friendship of sorts, spending time together doing extra lessons during the werewolf's tenure at Hogwarts. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>And certainly, the hold still remains as Lupin was seen forcibly grabbing Harry Potter and dragging him off to parts unknown after the first task—but for what purpose is unclear. One thing is certain though: Albus Dumbledore is not doing enough to protect The Boy Who Lived.</em>
</p><p>"That vile, despicable woman!" Hermione muttered. Harry looked up at her over his porridge.</p><p>"What?" he asked. She handed over her copy of the <em>Daily Prophet</em> and waited for him to read it. All around her, she saw other students reacting to the story. The Slytherins looked smug—Draco Malfoy was reading it aloud—while Dean Thomas was shaking his fist. At the other end of the Gryffindor table, Angelina Johnson passed her copy off to Ron with a look of disgust on her face, while his face grew more livid the further he read.</p><p>Harry had gone silent as he handed it off to Neville to read.</p><p>"She has to be stopped," he fumed.</p><p>"She's a menace," Hermione agreed, her mouth twisting into a frown. Harry's face mirrored her emotions, his lips drawn and tight, but his eyes as fired up as she'd ever seen them.</p><p>"She's not even supposed to be on the grounds," Harry said. "Remus told me Professor Dumbledore banned her from Hogwarts."</p><p>"After the way she twisted your words around, I should hope so," Hermione said. "But clearly it's not working."</p><p>"There's one thing I don't get though."</p><p>"What?" Neville asked, looking up from the paper.</p><p>"That bit about the bar; Seamus said it," Harry said, frowning. Hermione and Neville looked at him, outraged.</p><p>"He didn't mean it like that," Harry said quickly. "He was making a joke about Quirrell and Lockhart. But no one was around. It was just the three of us and Dean standing on the grass. There's no way she could've been close enough to hear."</p><p>"Maybe one of them told her?" Hermione suggested, but a quick talk with Seamus and Dean ruled that out.</p><p>"Hmmm," she thought, wheels turning, as they ran up to the owlery to write a letter of commiseration to Lupin. Something was definitely off.</p><hr/><p>December was almost upon them, and the air outside had turned more blustery than usual. Luckily, it was warm and cozy in the library, where Harry, Hermione and Neville spent most of their time. Hermione usually taught Neville the basics of antidotes—something she thought Harry should probably take note of, given how little he had paid attention to classes during the lead up to the first task—while Harry sifted through book after book on magical languages.</p><p>She'd been pleased to learn Remus had given them a clue and, in her spare time, had thrown herself into researching that, too.</p><p>But today she was alone. Harry said he preferred to study in the common room this time—though she suspected that was because he got nervous watching Viktor Krum doing his own research for the second task—and Neville was working on his star charts for Divination with Parvati and Lavender.</p><p>She was enjoying the silence, the crisp feel of the page, the smell of old books, when she felt the familiar footfalls of Viktor Krum behind her. She sighed.</p><p>Soon the fan club would be here.</p><p>To her shock, Krum sat down at her table. She eyed him curiously.</p><p>"Hello," he said, his voice sounding a bit thick, like he was not used to using it.</p><p>"Hello," she replied. Why on earth was he sitting here?</p><p>"Your friends are not here," he stated, looking around. "They are usually vith you."</p><p>Hermione looked around too, wondering when exactly a famous quidditch star started keeping tabs on her and her friends.</p><p>"Er, no," she replied. What on earth did he want? He still didn't say anything, but remained in the chair, staring at her. "Can I help you with something?"</p><p>"You come to the library a lot," he stated.</p><p>"So do you," she replied, her face darkening a bit as she said, "so does your fan club."</p><p>To her surprise, he blushed and his face lost some of its surliness. "Yes, vell, I hope you do not hold it against me," he said. "It is an unfortunate consequence of fame."</p><p>He said the last word with a hint of distaste, like it somehow offended him.</p><p>He looked sad, and Hermione felt remorseful. How often had Harry complained about his notoriety? Maybe Viktor Krum really did just want to go to the library and be left alone by the masses. Chastened, she thought of something conciliatory to ask him.</p><p>"How are you liking Hogwarts?" she asked.</p><p>"Very much," he nodded. "Ve have a castle too, but yours is much varmer, homier. Your library is vonderful."</p><p>"Isn't it?" she gushed, feeling a certain amount of appreciation for anyone who valued the library. She grinned at him, and if she wasn't mistaken—but this couldn't possibly be right—he blushed even more.</p><p>And then he asked her about her life. What were her favorite subjects in school—they both enjoyed Arithmancy and Transfiguration, but he liked Potions the best, and he had a wealth of knowledge on the Grindelwald era of history that she found fascinating. What were her parents like—he had never heard of dentists before, as most of the wizarding world opted to just fix their teeth with magic, and was intrigued. Where were their favorite vacation spots—hers had been Greece, while his had been Japan. Did she like sports—she enjoyed going to quidditch matches, but that was owing mostly to her Gryffindor pride—and Harry, of course.</p><p>"You and Harry are close," Viktor commented.</p><p>"We've been friends since first year," she answered.</p><p>He did very vell in the first task," he said, "He flies vell. Not many his age could haff handled a dragon like that."</p><p>Hermione beamed proudly, but before she could reply, she heard a twitter from behind her. The fan club was back. She gave him a commiserating look, but bid him goodbye. She didn't mind a fellow library lover interrupting her sanctuary, but she would not stick around with those nitwits there.</p><hr/><p>Hagrid was mental, Hermione thought warily as she and Harry dodged the fire-blasting end of the skrewts during their next Care of Magical Creatures lesson. Most of the class was hiding in Hagrid's hut, but a few of them—mostly Gryffindors—had tried to stick it out to help Hagrid round them up, getting burns and cuts for their troubles.</p><p>"These are worse than the dragons," Harry muttered to Hermione, as he ducked a bit of fire. She conjured up a fire-freezing charm, thinking grimly that if Hagrid continued to teach skrewts, she'd have to go to the library to research fire protection potions. They were very advanced, but then again, so was polyjuice potion, and she'd done fine with that.</p><p>The class had finally managed to capture all but one skrewt when Hermione heard a shrill, smug voice behind her say, "Well, well, well… This does look like fun."</p><p>She and Harry turned, and her stomach dropped. It was Rita Skeeter.</p><p>Hermione looked around. She'd always thought the skrewts were suspect—they weren't in any book she could find—and she half feared that Hagrid had broken breeding laws to create them. The other half feared they'd been imported illegally. Either way, if Rita Skeeter found that out, Hagrid could be in big trouble.</p><p>And considering what she'd done to Professor Lupin based on a two-second conversation, she hated to think what Rita Skeeter could do to Hagrid.</p><p>Hagrid tackled the last of the skrewts—blasting the pumpkin plants nearby in the process—and to Hermione's dismay, walked over to Rita. Harry glanced at Hermione and she knew he was thinking what she was: This was a recipe for disaster.</p><p>Glowering, Harry strode toward them, Hermione at his heels. Her heart sank as she heard Hagrid arranging a time to meet Rita Skeeter at the Three Broomsticks for an interview.</p><p>"What are you doing here?" Harry called out. "You've been banned from the grounds."</p><p>Hermione narrowed her eyes. She saw how the reporter took in the cuts and burns on the students and didn't like it—she knew exactly what kind of hit piece Rita Skeeter would write.</p><p>But Rita turned to Harry.</p><p>"Oh, hello, Harry," she trilled. "You're here, are you? Do you like this class?"</p><p>"Dumbledore banned you," he repeated.</p><p>"You're impeding on our magical education," Hermione added tartly. She heard Lavender mutter behind her, "Not such a huge loss this time," and wished she'd just shut up.</p><p>"Hermione's right. You should go," Harry said coldly. At her name, Rita turned to Hermione in interest.</p><p>"You're Hermione?" she asked skeptically, appraising Harry's supposed "stunningly pretty" girlfriend, and apparently finding her lacking.</p><p>"Lavender," Hermione called out, ignoring Rita Skeeter, "perhaps you should go get the Deputy Headmistress. It appears Hogwarts has a security problem." Lavender moved to leave, eager to escape the skrewts, but Rita Skeeter held up her hands.</p><p>"No need," she said, grinning like the Cheshire cat. "I was just leaving. I believe I've gotten everything I need."</p><p>Hermione did not like the sound of that at all. She turned to Hagrid, wringing her hands together.</p><p>"Hagrid," she pleaded, "please don't give that awful woman an interview. You saw what she did to Harry and Professor Lupin. Don't give her any ammunition against you."</p><p>Hagrid looked like he wanted to say that he thought it'd be all right—he tended to see the best in people—but hesitated at the looks on Harry and Hermione's faces.</p><p>"Isn't that why Dumbledore banned her?" Harry asked. "I doubt he'd want any of us giving interviews."</p><p>And that, it turns out, was the exact right thing to say. At the mention of Albus Dumbledore, Hagrid's entire demeanor changed.</p><p>"All righ'," he said. "I promise yeh."</p><hr/><p>Hermione's day improved considerably after lunch—following Fred's instructions she snuck down to the kitchens to speak with the house elves, and was shocked to find Dobby baking bread, happy to see a student, and even more delighted when he found out that student was a friend of Harry Potter's.</p><p>Grinning, Hermione ran back to Gryffindor Tower, intent on finding Harry. He'd be ecstatic to see Dobby, to know that he was well. After Winky had told them this summer that Dobby had had trouble finding work, they'd both been worried.</p><p>"Fairly lights," Hermione wheezed at the Fat Lady, who opened up the portrait hole. Hermione clambered in and looked around. Harry was nowhere in sight.</p><p>"Hey, Hermione."</p><p>Hermione turned to look at Ron, who was flipping through some quidditch magazine rather listlessly. They hadn't really talked since Ron refused to go to the first-aid tent with her after the first task.</p><p>"Hey," she replied, trying to catch her breath. "Have you seen Harry?"</p><p>Ron's face darkened, and he turned back to his magazine. Hermione sighed.</p><p>"Don't," she said.</p><p>"Don't what?"</p><p>"Don't make faces because I say Harry's name," she said. "All you have to do is talk to him—"</p><p>"There's nothing to talk about," Ron said bitterly.</p><p>"Fine!" Hermione snapped. She looked around for Harry herself.</p><p>"What do you want him for anyway?" Ron asked grumpily.</p><p>Hermione grinned. "I've been down to the kitchens, and—"</p><p>"You what?" Ron asked sharply. "Is this that spew nonsense again? Hermione—"</p><p>"It's not <em>Spew</em> and it's not nonsense, Ron. But that's not the point—"</p><p>"Can't get any takers for Spew among wizards, so you decided to harangue the elves while they're working, then? Just give it a rest Hermione, no one cares about freeing house elves who are perfectly happy with their lives the way they are!"</p><p>"No one asked for your uneducated, inhumane opinion, Ron! I'll have you—"</p><p>"But they're <em>not </em>human," Ron pointed out, raising Hermione's ire.</p><p>"So what, that means they don't have feelings?" she retorted, annoyed that she had gotten sucked into this argument. All she was trying to do was reunite Dobby and Harry.</p><p>"House elves are happy the way they are—"</p><p>"Because they don't know any better," Hermione snapped. "And regardless, no one deserves to get physically abused because they set the forks on the wrong side of the plate. How would you feel if your mother banged your head against the oven every time you forgot to pick up your shoes?"</p><p>"That's completely different!"</p><p>"No, it's not!"</p><p>"What's going on?" a voice called from behind her.</p><p>Hermione whirled around. Neville and Harry were standing in the portrait hole, taking in their raised voices, red faces and defensive stances. Neville's eyes were narrowed and Harry's posture was restless, as if he were ready to pounce.</p><p>"Harry," she said breathlessly, forgetting all about Ron. "Come on! You've got to see this!" She strode toward them, grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him back through the portrait hole, Neville right behind them.</p><p>"What is it?" Harry asked, as they ran at full speed, Neville struggling to catch up.</p><p>In no time at all, they were in front of the painting of a bowl of fruit.</p><p>Harry narrowed his eyes. "Are we at the kitchens?"</p><p>"Yes," she grinned, excited. "Just wait until you see." She tickled the pear and the painting turned into a door. They entered and before Hermione could say a word, Dobby had bounded across the room, rocketing toward Harry for a hug.</p><p>Hermione saw Harry's face go from confusion to recognition to astonishment. "Dobby?"</p><p>It was an enlightening visit. Dobby updated Harry on his travels the past two years, how he'd found Winky and gotten them both jobs at Hogwarts, and told them what he was being paid—far too little in Hermione's opinion, but that had apparently been Dobby's choice, not Professor Dumbledore's.</p><p>He was happy being free, but seeing the way the rest of the house elves reacted to Dobby, Hermione could see Neville's point about S.P.E.W. They'd had a number of conversations about it since their talk in the Three Broomsticks, and Neville <em>did</em> have firsthand knowledge of house elves that she didn't. Observing the Hogwarts house elves, she understood why he thought forcing anything on them probably wouldn't work.</p><p>Even Dobby and Winky didn't seem particularly free. When Hermione noted that Mr. Crouch had acted horribly when he'd sacked Winky, she'd gone into a tizzy, screaming at Hermione not to insult her master. And Dobby, who had no love for the Malfoys, seemed unable to say an unkind word about them without trying to beat his head into the table. It was only Harry's quick reflexes that saved him from harm.</p><p>No, clearly some sort of reeducation plan was in order, in tandem with a solid set of laws to protect and regulate house-elf welfare—until she could figure out a way to get them to want freedom.</p><p>She had already come up with a number of ideas, a number of potential topics to research in the library. All in all, Hermione considered it a successful visit.</p><hr/><p>There was going to be a ball. Hermione knew it, of course, had read all about the Yule Ball in her research on the Triwizard Tournament. Plus, her school letter this summer had called for dress robes, and she and her mother had spent hours finding the perfect periwinkle blue dress. Hermione wasn't usually one for fashion, but these robes made her feel dainty, like a fairy—the fairies of muggle tales though, not the real, live fairies that were vain and quarrelsome.</p><p>She had known there would be a ball for months, but now it was December and people were talking all about it. Parvati and Lavender spent most nights up in their shared dorm giggling about it, rating which boys they'd most like to ask them. (Harry was near the top of the list, though Hermione suspected that was mostly because he was a Champion. Parvati and Lavender generally liked Harry very much, but they'd never shown any particular inclination toward him.)</p><p>She didn't begrudge them their fun, but sitting there, listening to them giggle and whisper made her very much feel like the <em>other</em>.</p><p>She'd observed them—and other girls—and knew there was some fundamental thing she was missing, some secret language of female friendship no one had ever taught her. She'd tried to relate to Lavender and Parvati, but while she didn't think they were bad people—they could be quite nice at times—on the most basic of levels, she didn't understand them and they didn't get her.</p><p>She thought she might be able to find that friendship with Ginny. They hadn't talked much at all the past few years—she'd just been Ron's little sister—but that had started to change this summer. After the horrible night in the forest at the Quidditch World Cup, when Death Eaters engaged in muggle baiting, culminating in someone using Harry's wand to conjure the Dark Mark, Ginny had been anxious. Hermione had woken from a restless sleep that night to find Ginny crying, clearly having a nightmare.</p><p>She'd shaken Ginny awake and made her a cup of tea; sitting side by side on Ginny's bunk, teacup trembling in her hand, Ginny had confessed to Hermione that she'd had a nightmare about what she'd done—how she'd almost gotten Hermione, Harry, Colin, Justin and Penelope killed when she was possessed by the diary.</p><p>Hermione had wanted to tell Mr. Weasley straight away, but Ginny begged her not to—her parents wanted so badly for Ginny to be okay, and she mostly was. This was the first time she'd had the dream since the summer after it happened, and it was probably just because of the Dark Mark. Against her better judgment Hermione agreed, though she resolved to keep an eye on Ginny thereafter.</p><p>And so they had spent a fair amount of time together at the Burrow, and even here at Hogwarts, and she was starting to think that maybe they could have a kinship like Lavender and Parvati's. She didn't have much experience with female friendships, but buying her dress robes and thinking about dates—and everything that came after dates—she couldn't help but wish she had someone her age to talk to who could understand.</p><p>Lavender let out a particularly loud giggle and Hermione sighed. She grabbed her Charms notes, stuffing them into her bag, and headed downstairs so she could go to the library and work on the essay that was due before the holidays.</p><p>Thankfully, there was silence in the library for once. She found an empty table and got to work, but before long, there was a shadow standing over her.</p><p>"Hello," Viktor Krum said. "May I sit?"</p><p>She nodded her assent, and they worked in silence, the only sound coming from the scratching of her quill on her parchment. But she found she couldn't concentrate on her essay. There was a tension in the air, an unfamiliar feeling. She got the sense something big was about to happen, but she had no idea what.</p><p>"Hermione?" Viktor asked.</p><p>"Hmm?"</p><p>"Vould you go to the ball vith me?"</p><p>She was so shocked she almost dropped her quill. "Me?" she asked, and was horrified to discover it had come out more like a squeak.</p><p>Viktor looked confused. "Of course," he said, blushing a bit. "You are the smartest girl here, from vot I can see. You're beautiful and you're sweet. Vy vould I not ask you?"</p><p>Hermione felt her face get hot and knew it was bright scarlet. Oh, she was used to being called smart—though usually it came in the form of being told she was a know-it-all—but she'd never in her life been called beautiful by a boy.</p><p>Viktor shook his head a bit and looked down. "If I am being honest, vile I do like libraries…" he trailed off before confessing, "I haff come here every day hoping to vork up the courage to talk vith you."</p><p>"Me?" Another squeak.</p><p>Viktor smiled. "Yes," he said softly. "But you vere usually surrounded by your friends. I'm not surprised a smart, pretty girl like you is so popular though."</p><p>She felt a buzzing in her ears, and all in all, she felt a bit dazed. She was so shocked, in fact, that her mind went blank, which was not a particularly common occurrence for her.</p><p>"Yes, I'll go!" she blurted, before she even had a chance to think about it. He beamed, and she had a fleeting thought that his face really was quite lovely when he smiled.</p><p>Did she want to go with Viktor though? Normally she analyzed decisions—at least thought about them for a second—but this had been an instantaneous reaction brought on by completely foreign territory. They'd really only talked the one time—and while she'd found him intelligent and interesting, she didn't really <em>know</em> him.</p><p>But wasn't that the point of a date, after all? To get to know someone?</p><p>Besides, she thought, as giddiness started to set in, her dress deserved a real date, someone who wanted to go with her, and not just one of her friends or housemates who asked her as a last resort.</p><p>Viktor continued talking—she vaguely heard him say something about meeting in the Great Hall so that he could escort her to the Durmstrang ship for a small reception before the ball—but she was too busy marveling about the fact that she—bushy-haired, formerly-big-teethed, brainiac Hermione Granger—had a <em>real </em>date.</p><p>They parted ways not long after—Viktor's fan club had found him—and Hermione felt an irrational need to tell someone. There's no way any of her male friends would offer up the appropriate reaction to this news, but then she thought of Ginny—she would be excited for Hermione.</p><p>She'd just started up the staircase when she heard her name being called from behind. She turned and saw Neville rushing up the steps to catch her, balancing a giant parcel in his hands.</p><p>"Hey," Hermione said. "What have you got there?"</p><p>"It's just some stuff Gran sent me," he said. "Some books and my dress robes. She didn't want to send them to me until it was closer to the ball—thought I'd lose them."</p><p>"Oh," Hermione said, not sure what to say. Neville's gran had a habit of underestimating him, but he really did lose things quite a lot. "So you're all ready for the ball then?"</p><p>"Mostly," Neville answered, his voice a much higher pitch than usual. "Well—except for—"</p><p>He stopped talking <em>and </em>stopped moving, and Hermione followed suit. He looked nervous, and Hermione looked down at the box with his dress robes, and realized what he was going to ask just as he did so.</p><p>"Do you want to go to the ball together?" he asked, his face scarlet, refusing to meet her eyes, before quickly adding, "as friends?"</p><p>"Oh, Neville, I wish I could," Hermione said apologetically. "But I've already agreed to go with someone. I'm sorry."</p><p>"That's all right," he said, his face going back to its usual shade now that he'd asked the question. "I'll just ask…someone else."</p><p>They walked back to the common room, Neville chatting amiably about their Charms essay.</p><p>She knew Neville had only asked her as a friend, but still, she thought, a bit stunned, two ball invitations in one hour? Who was she and what had she done with Hermione Granger?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You did <em>what</em>?" Harry exclaimed, looking up from his book on the 12 languages of leprechauns.</p>
<p>"I asked Hermione to the Yule Ball," Neville said, not looking up from writing his Divination essay.</p>
<p>When had <em>this</em> happened? Harry knew there would be a ball—Professor McGonagall had mentioned it, and told him in no uncertain terms that he had to find a dance partner—and that was a task he didn't much care for, so he'd busied himself with <em>another</em> task: Trying to figure out the egg.</p>
<p>As soon as Harry had told Hermione about Remus' suggestion, she had implored him to start researching as it could take weeks to work it all out.</p>
<p>He could imagine how the conversation would have gone if Ron had still been the one sitting with them. "Oh, come on, Hermione," he'd say, building a house with a deck of playing cards or rifling through some Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans. "Harry's got plenty of time! Stop hassling him and give him a break for once!" And with Ron's support for his procrastination techniques, Harry would let the egg sit in his trunk, mostly forgotten except for the pit in his stomach whenever he thought of the second task.</p>
<p>But Neville was not Ron, and he was just as anxious as Hermione about the outcome of the second task. They'd looked at Harry fretfully, expectantly, stressing how imperative it was that he take this seriously, and Harry had felt guilty for making his best friends worry, and had settled down to research every chance he got.</p>
<p>And then McGonagall had mentioned that rubbish ball, and suddenly, researching the archaic languages of magical creatures and beings hadn't seemed so bad. Sure, he had noticed the increase of whisperings and gigglings and talk of the ball, but he thought it was still that—talk. He didn't realize anyone was <em>doing</em> something about it yet.</p>
<p>Apparently, he'd thrown himself into the second task so well that his friends thought he was not at all worried about the Yule Ball because here everyone was pairing up and he hadn't even thought about a date at all.</p>
<p>"When did you ask her?" Harry asked. How could he possibly have missed this?</p>
<p>"Yesterday," Neville answered. "But she's already got a date."</p>
<p>"Who's she going with?" Harry asked, panicking more.</p>
<p>"No idea," Neville said. "She didn't say."</p>
<p>"So, we just have to find dates," Harry said nodding.</p>
<p>"Well, after Hermione said no, I asked Ginny, and she said yes."</p>
<p>"Has <em>everyone </em>got a date already?" Harry asked fretfully, looking around the common room. People didn't <em>seem </em>to be more coupled up than usual.</p>
<p>"No," Neville replied, giving Harry a reassuring smile. "Most people don't. There's still plenty of time. End of term and Christmas are still ages away."</p>
<p>Harry shook his head, feeling a little incredulous. He didn't know the first thing about asking a girl on a date. And Neville—who sometimes seemed to be afraid of his own shadow—had somehow gathered up the courage to ask not one, but two girls to the Yule Ball—while Harry couldn't even bring himself to say "hi" to Cho Chang.</p>
<p>But he had to figure out a way to do it. Professor McGonagall had made it clear that he needed a dance partner. And besides, how stupid would he look with Viktor Krum and Cedric Diggory—probably with gorgeous girls beside them—dancing in front of everyone, while he pranced around, dancing with air, pretending there was a girl hiding under his invisibility cloak?</p>
<p>No, he had to get a date.</p>
<p>Harry glanced at Neville, and resolution hardened in Harry's gut: If Neville could do this, then so could he.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Well, <em>that</em> was an unmitigated disaster, Harry thought, as he flopped down on a sofa beside Neville and Hermione in the common room.</p>
<p>"What happened?" Hermione asked, looking up from her book, eyeing him carefully.</p>
<p>"I don't want to talk about it," Harry gritted out.</p>
<p>She gave him a look.</p>
<p>"I tried to ask a girl to the ball."</p>
<p>"Cho said no?" She looked scandalized.</p>
<p>Harry turned to look at her flabbergasted. "I never told you about Cho," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione eyed him. "You never had to," she said. "I do know a thing or two about you, Harry."</p>
<p>"Oh."</p>
<p>"So what happened?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"Well, she didn't say no," Harry said. "She didn't say anything because Cedric Diggory was already asking her."</p>
<p>He'd been walking back from class when he spotted Cho Chang up the corridor. He'd run to catch up to her, only to turn the corner and spot her chatting with Diggory. He couldn't hear them, but Harry had watched them standing together; he was unable to move or look away. Whereas Harry was only a smidge taller than Cho, Cedric had half a foot on her. Whereas Harry had uncontrollable hair that stuck out everywhere, Cedric's was always in perfect condition. Whereas Harry couldn't get past stammering out "Er" in front of her, Cedric was saying something that made her laugh.</p>
<p>Cedric smiled at her—it was a bit blinding in Harry's opinion, too much like Gilderoy Lockhart's—and, to Harry's chagrin, Cedric tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.</p>
<p>And then they'd parted, Cedric giving her a little wave, and he'd called out, "I can't wait for the ball!" And she'd turned red.</p>
<p>What had he been thinking: Why would a pretty, popular, athletic fifth year like Cho want to go out with a scrawny, tongue-tied fourth year like Harry, when she could have a bloke like Cedric Diggory?</p>
<p>"It's her loss," Hermione said sympathetically, pulling Harry out of his reverie.</p>
<p>"I'm sure it'll go better next time," Neville said, trying to cheer him up.</p>
<p>But Harry didn't want there to be a next time. He didn't want to go to this rubbish ball at all.</p>
<p>Though his friends couldn't understand that at all. Hermione and Ginny had had their heads together at lunch, eyes shining, whispering happily. He never would've thought it, but Hermione seemed really excited about the ball. And while Neville hadn't reached her level of enthusiasm, even he thought it would be fun.</p>
<p>But they didn't have to get up in front of everyone and make a fool of themselves dancing.</p>
<p>"You could always ask Parvati or Lavender," Hermione suggested.</p>
<p>Harry considered that. He'd always liked them well enough, but ever since Professor McGonagall made the announcement about the Yule Ball they had taken to giggling and whispering whenever he was around.</p>
<p>Divination, in particular, was especially dreadful seeing as how Professor Trelawney alternated between predicting his untimely death—for the 12th time this year, mind you, so at this rate the only thing that would be untimely about his death was that it had taken so long to get here—and gazing into her crystal ball predicting which girl he'd be dancing with at the ball. And then, as if on cue, Lavender and Parvati giggled.</p>
<p>He had the sneaking suspicion that what they'd be looking for is a date with a Hogwarts Champion—and that didn't sit right with him.</p>
<p>"I don't know," he said.</p>
<p>"Well, someone will turn up," Neville said cheerfully. "Hannah's going with Ernie—she said so in Herbology—but you could always ask Susan."</p>
<p>"Lisa Turpin could be fun, too," Hermione suggested. "She mentioned to me in Arithmancy that she didn't have a date yet."</p>
<p>"Who are you going with anyway?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>To his surprise, Hermione blushed. He sat up a bit straighter.</p>
<p>"Promise you won't laugh," she said. They nodded.</p>
<p>"Viktor Krum."</p>
<p>Well, <em>that</em> he hadn't expected. Hermione was watching him, an anxious look on her face.</p>
<p>"You're not mad, are you Harry?" she asked. "I know he's your competition and everything—"</p>
<p>"I'm not mad," he told her. A bit surprised, maybe. He couldn't picture Hermione and Krum having anything to talk about. But then, what did he know about girls?</p>
<p>"Oh, good," she said, looking relieved. "He asked me in the library, and I sort of said yes without thinking, and—"</p>
<p>She shut up quickly. Harry glanced around and saw Ron at a nearby table supposedly playing wizard chess, but Harry had played against him enough times—and watched him play against other people enough times—to know he seemed to be concentrating a bit too hard for a game with Seamus. Harry caught Hermione's eye.</p>
<p>"He'll only make fun if he knows," she whispered.</p>
<p>"What are you planning to do at the actual ball? Borrow my invisibility cloak? I think he—and everyone—will find out eventually," Harry countered.</p>
<p>She blushed. "Well, at least I won't have to deal with everyone's opinions until then."</p>
<p>Given everything he'd gone through in November, he couldn't exactly argue with that.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next day another horrible thought struck Harry. He was reading up on animal languages—like parseltongue, but for owls, lizards, bears and the like—while Hermione and Neville were finishing up Transfiguration essays, when Hermione made what she clearly thought was an innocuous statement.</p>
<p>"My parents love ballroom dancing— they go once a month and they've taught me some," she said.</p>
<p>Harry had been under the delusion that everyone was as unprepared for dancing as he was—but what if he was the only one?</p>
<p>"Do <em>you </em>know how to dance?" he asked Neville, feeling a bit frantic.</p>
<p>"No," he replied, frowning. "I hope Ginny doesn't mind me stepping on her toes."</p>
<p>"I can put a cushioning charm on her shoes," Hermione offered.</p>
<p>"Thanks!"</p>
<p>"Do you think other people know how to dance?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Probably not," Neville said. "Do muggles send their kids for dancing lessons?"</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione shook their heads.</p>
<p>"Well, it's not like magic parents all send their kids to some refinement school or something before Hogwarts either," he said. "Most of us spend our childhoods trying not to accidentally blow up anything and getting tutored in maths."</p>
<p>"Right," Harry said, nodding, feeling the panic recede a little bit.</p>
<p>"Honestly, Harry, most dancing is just shuffling around a bit really slowly," Hermione said, giving him an encouraging smile. "You'll be fine."</p>
<p>"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "The champions are supposed to open the ball. Everyone will be watching."</p>
<p>Hermione looked sympathetic, but Neville was looking at him blankly.</p>
<p>"So?" he asked.</p>
<p>Harry had visions of himself tripping over his dress robes and somehow managing to topple all of the other champions and their dates in one go.</p>
<p>Neville could, apparently, read some of Harry's thoughts in his expression. "I trip, fall and get hung up on the chandelier by pixies on a fairly regular basis," he said. "As long as you laugh with them, it's never so bad."</p>
<p>And, somehow, Neville being so calm was making Harry calmer.</p>
<p>"Besides," Neville said. "What's the worst they can do? Start wearing some Potter Stinks badges and taunting you in the corridors?"</p>
<p>Apparently, Neville could be as logical as Hermione.</p>
<p>"And if you're really still worried about it," Hermione said thoughtfully, trailing off as she glanced around as if she were looking for someone. She clearly saw what she was looking for because she nodded definitively and said, "Harry, follow me."</p>
<p>She led him to the boys dormitory, found a suitable song on Seamus' wireless radio and turned around to face Harry. He felt himself flushing as he realized her intention.</p>
<p>"Look, you just place your hands here, and move around in a square," she said, taking one of his hands in hers and placing the other firmly at her waist, before putting her remaining hand on his shoulder. "Then you just move around in a box like this, in time to the music." She started to move to indicate what he should do.</p>
<p>Harry felt a little dizzy as they circled around, and felt his face getting even hotter. He'd never touched Hermione—or any girl for that matter—this intimately before, and between that, and his embarrassment at not knowing how to dance, he felt his hand growing clammy in hers, and hoped she didn't notice. He gripped her waist a little more tightly, trying to gain back control of his reactions.</p>
<p>"Er—isn't the bloke supposed to lead?" he asked, looking down at his feet.</p>
<p>"Well, yes," Hermione admitted, "but this is just to show you how it goes. Once you get used to it then you should lead. Here, try it."</p>
<p>They stopped as Hermione waited for Harry to take the first step. He listened for the right moment in the song, and then watched his feet as he began to shuffle them around, Hermione moving more gracefully than he'd ever seen her—certainly, more gracefully than him.</p>
<p>"Don't look at your feet, Harry," Hermione corrected, removing her hand from his shoulder for a second to tip up his chin so he was looking at her. "It'll just mess you up. You're supposed to look at your partner's face."</p>
<p>But Harry and Hermione were roughly the same height, and looking at her face meant looking directly into her eyes. He didn't know what to do: Should he blink? Was blinking too much weird? He wasn't blinking at all and it felt like that was the exact wrong thing to be doing.</p>
<p>"You're a good dancer," she smiled.</p>
<p>He blinked.</p>
<p>"You're sure?" he asked tentatively. "You're not just…"</p>
<p>"I'm sure," she said firmly.</p>
<p>"It'll be different with dress robes on."</p>
<p>"If you can fly on a broom in robes, you can dance in a box in them," she said teasingly.</p>
<p>"And if I do trip and fall on my face in front of everyone?"</p>
<p>She looked thoughtful. "Then I'll trip Viktor and everyone will be talking about him."</p>
<p>He laughed, feeling a release of tension, and twirled her around more enthusiastically. He felt less stiff, loosening his grip on her hand and waist, settling into the dance a bit. He grinned at her and she grinned back. This dancing thing wasn't half bad.</p>
<p>Just as he was getting the hang of it, just as she'd shifted a bit closer to him so that their bodies were almost brushing against each other—the way he supposed you were actually supposed to dance, not so far apart a person could fit between you—just as Harry felt the steps coming more naturally to him, moving in almost perfect synchronicity with her, the door burst open.</p>
<p>"Don't worry, I left it right on my bed," Ron called out.</p>
<p>As Harry turned Hermione in his arms, Ron and Seamus entered the dorm. Ron took in Harry's hand on Hermione's waist, her hand on his shoulder, their smiles, and scowled and stalked out. Seamus grinned widely, looking between them and his wireless radio, and Harry knew instantly that he had surmised exactly what was happening and that Harry Potter, Hogwarts Champion and Boy Who Lived, barely knew how to dance.</p>
<p>"You could probably just try Tarantallegra if you're that worried about it," Seamus teased, grabbing Ron's chess set off his bed and shutting the door quickly, before the pillow Harry threw at him could hit its target.</p>
<hr/>
<p>By the end of the week, Harry still didn't have a date. He'd been asked by a few girls—including some first and second years, to his horror—but he couldn't bring himself to say yes to someone who only wanted to go with him for his fame.</p>
<p>But, as Neville kept reminding him, there was still plenty of time before classes ended, so he just had to go ahead and ask someone.</p>
<p>He sighed. He was sitting in the common room with Neville, and they were both flicking through books on magical languages. Harry looked at Hermione's empty seat—she'd been working with them for hours, but had taken a break when Ginny had come over, begging for her help with something. They were now across the common room, puzzling over pink dress robes. Ginny looked miserable, and Hermione was gesturing animatedly, the same determined look on her face that she always got when she was coming up with solutions for someone's—usually Harry's—problems.</p>
<p>Harry stretched his arms and returned to reading, skimming through two more chapters.</p>
<p>"If only Hogwarts had recordings of magical languages," Neville murmured, flipping through a book on goblins. "This'd be much easier."</p>
<p>But Harry wasn't paying attention.</p>
<p>"Neville," he whispered excitedly, shaking Neville's arm. "Neville!"</p>
<p>Neville looked up from his reading to see that Harry was staring down at a page in his book, a wide smile on Harry's face.</p>
<p>"What is it?"</p>
<p>Harry read aloud from the book: "<em>Not much is</em> <em>known about the language of banshees, as their piercing cries are fatal to anyone who hears them. However, it's likely that if banshees have a language, it's not unlike that of the merpeople, which is known for sounding like the screeching howls of a mortally wounded animal. In fact, the Ministry of Magic has fielded dozens of incorrect reports of banshees from wizards who merely heard two merpeople discussing the weather."</em></p>
<p>"That's got to be it right?" Harry asked, grinning. "Not the banshees—if no one's ever heard them, how could they put it in an egg—but merpeople?"</p>
<p>"Yeah!" Neville whispered, so thrilled he almost knocked over his pumpkin juice, but Harry's seeker-quick reflexes caught it. "What else does it say?"</p>
<p>"Nothing," he said. "It's a book about banshees. But now we know where to look."</p>
<p>Harry looked up, searching for the corner where Hermione and Ginny had been. He couldn't wait to tell Hermione, to see how pleased she'd be that he'd figured it out. But, to his disappointment, she wasn't there. He looked around the room: Where could they have gone?</p>
<p>Harry didn't get a chance to tell Hermione about the merpeople because she didn't come down for dinner that night, though Ginny assured him and Neville that Hermione had grabbed a sandwich from the kitchens, and was merely spending a bit of time helping Ginny out with a project and practicing fixing her hair for the ball. Harry thought the first reason was a bit more believable than the second where Hermione was concerned, but as he'd learned this week, Hermione was a girl and he didn't know a whole lot about them.</p>
<p>So he was sitting in the Great Hall with Ginny and Neville, who was talking animatedly about his greenhouse back home. For her part, Ginny seemed to be interested.</p>
<p>It had been a relief this summer when Ginny had finally overcome her inability to speak around Harry. Her face still usually burned as red as her hair anytime she spoke directly to him—even if it was just to ask him to pass the potatoes—but she could at least carry on regular conversations with other people when he was around. It was a whole lot better than previous years when the best she'd been able to do was a squeak and a runner for the door when she saw him, something that always made him uncomfortable and had him nervously patting his hair down to cover his scar.</p>
<p>His mind still kept going back to the ball though. Hermione had made him feel much better about the whole dancing thing—no matter the teasing he'd had to endure from Seamus and Dean for it since—but there was still the matter of the date. He twirled his potatoes nervously, glancing around the room, as if by some miracle the perfect girl would suddenly appear in front of him.</p>
<p>"What's wrong, Harry?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"What? Oh, nothing. Just thinking about the ball."</p>
<p>"You'll find a date," Neville said. "Why don't you ask Katie?"</p>
<p>"Katie has a date," Ginny said.</p>
<p>"There's still always Parvati and Lavender," Neville suggested.</p>
<p>"Lavender's going with Seamus but Parvati is still free," Ginny reported.</p>
<p>But this time it was Harry who shot that down. The other day, Neville had forgotten some of his notes in History of Magic, and Harry had offered to grab them so Neville wouldn't be late to Muggle Studies. When he got to the classroom, Binns was gone, but he overheard Parvati making a cruel joke about how the only date Hermione Granger could get for the Yule Ball was a book. Harry wasn't feeling particularly fond of her at the moment.</p>
<p>"Okay, we've just got to think of someone," Neville said. "What are your parameters?"</p>
<p>Harry looked at Neville blankly.</p>
<p>"What would you like in a date?"</p>
<p>"I dunno… a girl."</p>
<p>Neville grinned. "Well, yes, I gathered <em>that</em>. But is there anything specific about her, or will any girl do?"</p>
<p>Harry couldn't believe it. Neville was <em>teasing</em> him. It was lighthearted and affectionate—the sort of teasing that occurred between friends—but in all the years Harry had known Neville, he'd never really seemed comfortable enough to make jokes about anyone but himself.</p>
<p>Harry couldn't help but smile at this change in him, and thought seriously about his question. Given all the giggling and whispering around him lately, he assumed it wouldn't matter if he brought Fleur Delacour, Lisa Turpin or Moaning Myrtle—people would find something to gossip about. So all he really wanted was—</p>
<p>"Someone who doesn't care that I'm in the tournament," Harry blurted. "Someone who doesn't care that I'm famous at all."</p>
<p>Neville nodded, but Ginny looked down, her face on fire. Harry realized too late that he'd embarrassed her. He hadn't been trying to call her out specifically, had forgotten that she might take offense to that, but he still felt a pang of guilt, wishing they could rewind the last 30 seconds.</p>
<p>Neville looked around the Great Hall and seemed to realize the same thing Harry had: that it was an impossible task.</p>
<p>"Well," Ginny said timidly, her face still bright red, "if all you want is someone who won't care about you being famous…"</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Harry asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"Well, there's this girl in my Transfiguration class," Ginny said, looking at the potatoes and not Harry. "But… she's a bit weird. She seems nice and all—I've never heard her say a mean word about anyone—and she's always got her head in the clouds, so I doubt she cares what the <em>Daily Prophet</em> says about anything. But, she is, well, strange."</p>
<p>Strange Harry could handle. He was desperate for a date and the idea of going with someone who wouldn't spend the whole time staring at his scar made the whole dance seem more palatable.</p>
<p>"When can I meet her?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"You arranged a date for Harry?" Hermione asked incredulously.</p>
<p>Ginny Weasley was sitting across from her on Hermione's bed, thumbing through one of Lavender's copies of <em>Witch Weekly </em>as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.</p>
<p>"Well, not exactly," Ginny said. "I arranged a meeting for Harry. Luna and I are meeting up to study Transfiguration together in the library later, and then you, Neville and Harry are just going to <em>happen </em>to be studying there too, so Harry can meet Luna and see if he thinks she's all right. Neville and I worked it all out."</p>
<p>Hermione was shocked. She wasn't sure if it was because Ginny Weasley, who had had the biggest crush on Harry Potter from the time she had first heard the story of the boy who lived, was now setting up dates for him with other girls, or because a plan had to be hatched and she somehow wasn't involved.</p>
<p>"But <em>you </em>like Harry."</p>
<p>"Well, he doesn't exactly like me back, does he?" Ginny said grumpily.</p>
<p>Hermione sighed. She'd been telling Ginny for months that if she could just find a way to be less nervous around Harry, he'd actually have a chance to get to know her.</p>
<p>"Besides," Ginny said, "I already said I'd go with Neville. What was I supposed to do, leave him flat and ask Harry to take me? Neville would hate me—and rightly so."</p>
<p>In addition to hurting Neville, that would also just serve to make Harry even more standoffish with Ginny, Hermione thought, as she rearranged the books in her bag.</p>
<p>Ginny fingered the page of a glossy, glittering ad, and shrugged. "So I told him about Luna."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't know anything about Luna Lovegood except that she was a third-year Ravenclaw who was in Ginny's Transfiguration class—and that some people called her Loony Lovegood. But Hermione didn't put much stock in gossip.</p>
<p>"This way," Ginny said, a little angrily, "he can't say that I'm some stupid fan girl who sends him nonsense poems and follows him around just because he's famous. I helped him get a date—that's not what mental people do."</p>
<p>Hermione eyed Ginny carefully. Clearly, she had missed something important last night at dinner.</p>
<p>"I'll ask Viktor to stay clear of the library today," Hermione said, grabbing up a piece of parchment to write on.</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>"Well, Harry's nervous enough as it is. And Viktor tends to attract a crowd," Hermione explained.</p>
<p>She finished up her note to Viktor, and Ginny grinned impishly. "So we're at the point of writing love notes to Viktor then?"</p>
<p>Hermione laughed. "Yes, love notes to help my best friend—how romantic."</p>
<p>But when she glanced up and saw her Yule Ball dress hanging in the closet, her stomach did a little flip.</p>
<p>It was the most frivolous, fanciful thought that relentlessly logical Hermione Granger had ever had—but she was excited to go to the ball. She had wanted to go with someone as excited about the ball as she was, with someone who wanted to go with <em>her</em>. And while she had no idea if she even liked Viktor in that way—honestly, they'd just met—this feeling she had, this anticipation and hope for a night filled with music and fairy lights and, most of all, dancing was positively thrilling.</p>
<p>Practicing with Harry had been the only time she'd ever danced with someone her own age—every other time was just with her mum or dad in the living room—and while she had always loved dancing, she found that it was a completely different experience when your partner wasn't a relative.</p>
<p>Harry's hand had been warm on her waist, and she'd felt different somehow: taller, more grown up, like she'd been on the precipice of something—adulthood, she supposed.</p>
<p>It had also felt exciting, discovering someone she knew so well in a completely different way. When it came to physical activities, Harry had always seemed so <em>confident</em>—flying on a broomstick or a hippogriff, perfectly arcing a dungbomb into a cauldron so she could steal ingredients during Potions, the way he never hesitated before he dueled in class. But when they were dancing, he was tentative, sweet, unsure—like it was something they were learning together.</p>
<p>She had no idea what dancing with Viktor would be like, but she was eager to experiment, to see if it was always the same with blokes her own age, or if every person was different.</p>
<p>Ginny followed Hermione's gaze to her dress and grinned.</p>
<p>"I can't wait to see the look on my brother's face when he sees you in that with Viktor Krum," she said gleefully. "Did you know he made fun of me for going with Neville? Said no one would want to be caught dead going with him."</p>
<p>Hermione felt a flare of anger in Neville's defense. "At least Neville had the guts to actually ask out a girl," Hermione retorted. "Two, even."</p>
<p>Ginny nodded, and then her eyes fell on Hermione's dress robes again.</p>
<p>"I don't suppose you were able to do something with my dress robes?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Sort of," Hermione said tentatively, heading for her closet.</p>
<p>Ginny had written to Mrs. Weasley as soon as Neville asked her to the Yule Ball, and Mrs. Weasley had sent Ginny's dress robes—the one's she wore to her Aunt Muriel's birthday gala the year before. Ginny had found Hermione, completely panicked, because she'd grown a bit this past year, and while it was one thing to have dress robes that were a little short, it was quite another to wear dress robes that no longer fit your chest.</p>
<p>"I managed to make them your size, I think," Hermione told her, taking the dress out. Considering all of the times she'd tried shrinking Harry's clothes, she'd had plenty of practice with size alteration spells. "But I couldn't do anything about the color."</p>
<p>The robes were pink—a lovely color on some girls, but it was the exact wrong shade of pink for Ginny's hair color and complexion. Hermione had tried every spell she could think of to no avail; then Parvati had told her that a lot of designers put no-dye enchantments on their garments—and Parvati knew about such things.</p>
<p>Ginny took the robes from her, holding them to her body as she looked in the mirror. She gave Hermione a grateful smile. "Thanks for trying—at least I have a dress to wear now."</p>
<p>She turned back to the mirror and sighed. "I never should have let mum buy this awful color."</p>
<p>"You're going to look fantastic," Hermione tried to assure her, forcing a smile. Pink <em>really</em> wasn't Ginny's color.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Hermione!"</p>
<p>Hermione had barely made it through the portrait hole when she saw Harry sitting in the armchair facing it, book in hand, apparently waiting for her. She'd just returned from the Owlery, having sent her note to Viktor.</p>
<p>"What's up?" she asked.</p>
<p>"It's Mermish," he grinned, standing up as she walked toward him.</p>
<p>"What's Mermish—you mean the egg?"</p>
<p>He nodded and she beamed, feeling instantly lighter. If Harry figured out the egg's language, they were one step closer to surviving the second task.</p>
<p>"How do you know?"</p>
<p>He stuck out his hand and gave her his book. She turned to the dog-eared page—she was so excited she ignored that particular desecration of a book—and read the paragraph Harry pointed to, as he read over her shoulder.</p>
<p>If he had been expecting a smile and a compliment from her, he was sorely mistaken. As Hermione read the words—<em>it's not unlike that of the merpeople, which is known for sounding like the screeching howls of a mortally wounded animal—</em>she felt elation rising in her. They were one step closer and Harry was one step safer, and she was so happy and relieved to have a new clue to figure out, and so proud of him for buckling down and doing the work that she turned and threw herself into his arms.</p>
<p>Whether he had been expecting a reaction like this or it was just his quick reflexes, Harry caught her and only had to take one step back to avoid toppling onto the armchair from the force of her excitement.</p>
<p>"Harry, this is really great!" she enthused.</p>
<p>This was, quite possibly, the best Christmas gift he could have given her. She'd been so afraid he'd leave the egg to the last minute, so afraid they'd have another nerve-wracking weekend like the one before the first task, but he'd done it.</p>
<p>"Er, thanks," he said, as she disentangled her arms from his neck. He looked a bit embarrassed, his cheeks flushing red, but also a bit proud.</p>
<p>"We'll have to start researching right away," she said, beginning to pace in front of him. "We should go to the library—there's an entire section on merpeople, and I'm sure we can find something useful about how to decipher Mermish. Oh, but doesn't Professor Dumbledore speak it? I could swear he does, he speaks a whole list of languages, and I believe that's one of them. I read about it in <em>Modern Magical Mysteries</em>—there was a bit part about it when talking about his discovery of the 12 uses of dragon's blood. But I don't suppose he would help out, would he? He's really not supposed to—neither am I for that matter, but it would be quite different for a headmaster to get involved than another student. Though I'm sure Karkaroff and Madame Maxime are helping <em>their</em> champions. Still, I don't know that Dumbledore would break the rules, so we probably should just go to the library."</p>
<p>She looked at Harry expectantly, but Harry looked amused.</p>
<p>"We <em>are</em> going to the library," he said. "To meet Ginny and Luna. And we should probably save the Triwizard stuff for when they're not around."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't like that at all. Now that they had another clue, she felt reinvigorated by the search.</p>
<p>"I'm perfectly capable of multitasking, Harry," Hermione said. "They won't even realize what I'm researching."</p>
<p>She made a face, doing her best impression of other students mocking her: "There goes Hermione, doing her essays two terms in advance."</p>
<p>Harry was about to respond, but was interrupted when an owl tapped on the window near the fireplace. Harry ran over and opened it. He ripped open his letter, while Hermione retrieved a treat for the owl from Harry's bag.</p>
<p>"Is that from Sirius?" she asked. Harry had received a response from Lupin last week about Rita Skeeter's article, assuring Harry that Lupin didn't blame him for anything and that he didn't have a clue how Skeeter had heard Seamus, but Lupin had told Professor Dumbledore so he could be on alert. Sirius was the only other person Harry wrote to.</p>
<p>Harry nodded, reading. "He was going to suggest a conjunctivitis curse for the first task—"</p>
<p>"That's what Krum did!"</p>
<p>"But he said my way was better," Harry finished, blushing a little, a proud smile on his face as he added, "He was impressed."</p>
<p>"Well, of course he was, Harry, it was very impressive. Does he say anything else?"</p>
<p>"Just that whoever put my name in the cup probably isn't feeling too happy right now, but that I've got to stay on guard and stay out of trouble."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. "That last bit is probably good advice," she commented, glancing at her watch. "Come on. We'd better find Neville and get to the library."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Luna Lovegood was not what she expected. Ginny Weasley was sitting at a table with a girl with a dreamy disposition and straggly, dirty-blonde hair, her wand carelessly placed behind her ear. She had on her school robes and a butterbeer cork necklace. They were ostensibly studying transfiguration—a perfectly legitimate subject—but Hermione distinctly heard the mention of crumple-horned snorkacks as they approached.</p>
<p>"Hi Ginny," Neville said. "Can we join you?" Ginny nodded, and Hermione and Harry sat across from her and Luna, respectively, with Neville taking the spot at the head of the table.</p>
<p>"Everyone, this is Luna," Ginny said. Luna looked at them all curiously, and her eyes fell on Harry.</p>
<p>"<em>You're</em> Harry Potter," she said, and Hermione felt her stomach drop. This is exactly what Harry didn't want.</p>
<p>"Er—yeah."</p>
<p>But then, instead of flicking her eyes to Harry's scar or asking him about the tournament, she turned her pale eyes to Hermione and Neville.</p>
<p>"Who are you?"</p>
<p>"Hermione Granger."</p>
<p>"Neville Longbottom."</p>
<p>Luna nodded at all of them, her face impassive, and then returned to her book. Harry gave Hermione and Neville a questioning glance. Neville shrugged.</p>
<p>"So, er, do you like butterbeer, Luna?" Harry asked, focusing in on her necklace.</p>
<p>She looked up at him, that dreamy expression on her face. "Oh yes," she said, touching her necklace. "Especially the corks." She leaned in closer to him, whispering conspiratorially, "They keep away the nargles."</p>
<p>Hermione felt her temper flare.</p>
<p>"What are nargles?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"Nothing," Hermione said. "They're not real."</p>
<p>"Yes they are," Luna retorted angrily, her demeanor changing instantly.</p>
<p>"Where's the proof then?" Hermione asked, her eyebrow raised. She knew she shouldn't be making this difficult for Harry, but honestly—<em>nargles</em>?</p>
<p>"There are plenty of eyewitness accounts," Luna said.</p>
<p>"There's no evidence in any legitimate resource," Hermione retorted, about to launch into a lecture on irresponsible misinformation when Luna interrupted her.</p>
<p>"Before you got your Hogwarts letter, did you think magic existed?" she asked.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"Did you?"</p>
<p>"Well, no," Hermione admitted.</p>
<p>"So just because you don't have proof of something doesn't mean it doesn't exist," Luna remarked, her tone losing its anger, going back to what must be her usual dreamy state.</p>
<p>Ginny, Harry and Neville were watching them, swiveling their heads like they were at a tennis match.</p>
<p>"But just because something <em>could</em> exist, doesn't mean you can pretend it actually does," Hermione snapped. "If you want to find new creatures, you have to actually go out and discover them."</p>
<p>"I suppose you'd better hope you have a camera ready because if you do discover them without one, no one will believe you," Luna shrugged.</p>
<p>Hermione was about to open her mouth to respond when Neville touched her on the arm.</p>
<p>"We need to find that book, remember?" he said.</p>
<p>Hermione narrowed her eyes. She <em>did</em> want to go look up merpeople, and she realized that this probably wasn't helping Harry's case much—although from the entertained expression on his face, maybe it was helping him to relax—but she also couldn't stand walking away from this debate. Her indecision must have been written on her face because Ginny kicked her in the shin—hard.</p>
<p>"Oh, all right," Hermione sighed, walking with Neville toward the section on merpeople. Ginny also made herself scarce. Hermione and Neville perused the shelf, looking for something promising, as she half-listened to Harry and Luna's conversation. They were discussing Hogsmeade—Luna had been for the first time and was telling Harry about all of her favorite places. They included the Post Office and Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop—they were two of Hermione's favorite places, too—as well as a rare bookstore that Hermione had never been in, but that she was intrigued by.</p>
<p>"Where do you like to go Harry?"</p>
<p>"Usually the Three Broomsticks," he replied.</p>
<p>"Oh yes, I hear it's quite nice. No one's ever invited me to go—most people think I'm a bit odd. But Davey Willis snuck some firewhisky from the Three Broomsticks last year and he and the other sixth years figured out how to make it. The parties when Ravenclaw won quidditch got much louder after that."</p>
<p>Hermione's jaw dropped. Davey Willis was supposed to be <em>a prefect.</em></p>
<p>She moved past a section on merpeople diets just as Luna and Harry moved on to quidditch.</p>
<p>"I quite like going to the games," Luna said. "The shapes of the clouds can be quite interesting, and they can tell you how well you're going to play, did you know? I especially like Lee Jordan, particularly when he makes Professor McGonagall yell."</p>
<p>"Yeah, apart from the snitch and the adrenaline and the winning, I think Lee Jordan is one of the best bits of the game, too." Hermione smiled at the amusement in Harry's tone.</p>
<p>"I suppose you must be rather sad this year then? Playing quidditch with a team must be more fun than a tournament by yourself."</p>
<p>Harry was quiet for a second. Hermione wished she could see his face.</p>
<p>"Yeah," he said quietly. "It is."</p>
<p>Hermione could hear the relief in his voice that there was someone else who understood him, and she felt a rush of affection toward Luna.</p>
<p>She eyed a book called <em>Meetings with Merpeople: How Not to Sound Like a Landlubber</em>, and took it down from the shelf, revealing a hole that she could see Harry and Luna through.</p>
<p>The dreamy look was back on Luna's face, and she was telling Harry a story about Cornelius Fudge using his army of heliopaths—another imaginary creature—to run the goblins out of Gringotts. Harry was listening intently, a sparkle in his eye. He caught Hermione's eye through the row of books and raised his eyebrow at her, as if daring her to come back and debate Luna. She rolled her eyes and continued reading.</p>
<p>Hermione rifled through chapters on how to decipher a screech from an eek—Harry didn't have time for this, she thought with a sigh.</p>
<p>She flicked past a chapter on common Mermish insults to avoid, to a chapter titled "A Shortcut."</p>
<p>It was one sentence long: <em>If you really want to talk to a merperson but don't feel like taking the time to actually learn their language, just go underwater and you'll understand what they're saying in your native tongue, you lazy git.</em></p>
<p>That's it! All Harry had to do was take the egg underwater! She moved through the aisle to find him, her entire body buzzing with excitement at this revelation. As she approached the table, she saw Harry rubbing his elbow.</p>
<p>"Er, listen, Luna," he said. "Would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me—as friends?"</p>
<p>Hermione watched in astonishment as Luna's whole demeanor changed.</p>
<p>"Oh yes, I'd love to go with you as friends," she said, beaming, staring at Harry in wonder. "I've never gone to a ball before with a friend!"</p>
<p>Hermione felt a stab of guilt at her earlier irritability toward Luna. She knew what it was like to be the girl with no friends, only thanks to Harry, her solitude had only lasted two months, not two and a half years.</p>
<p>Harry grinned. "Great! Then I'll meet you in the Great Hall?"</p>
<p>Hermione, who had reached the table now, frowned, turning to Luna. "He'll pick you up at Ravenclaw Tower like a proper date," she said, but at the panicked expression on Harry's face, she amended her statement: "Like a proper friendship date."</p>
<p>Harry looked at her quizzically, but then nodded. "Right," he said. "Ravenclaw Tower."</p>
<p>They parted ways not long after—Neville decided to stay with Ginny and Luna to finish up his Charms essay, and Hermione promised to review it when he was done. Harry and Hermione walked back to Gryffindor Tower together in silence.</p>
<p>"A proper friendship date?" he finally asked her, the note of incredulity apparent in his voice.</p>
<p>Hermione sighed. "She was just so excited," she said. "It's her first ball, and even if you are just going as friends, it should still be special."</p>
<p>"And is Krum picking you up at Gryffindor Tower?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Hermione flushed. "Well, no," she said. "But the circumstances are completely different."</p>
<p>"Of course," Harry smirked.</p>
<p>"Can you imagine the scene?" she asked, earning a laugh from Harry.</p>
<p>"No, I couldn't possibly imagine causing a scene here at Hogwarts," he said dryly. She grinned.</p>
<p>They walked in silence, Hermione thinking back on the strange meeting with Luna, and she couldn't help but ask Harry if he was positive about his choice.</p>
<p>"And you're sure you want to go with her?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Well, it's a little late now to change my mind, isn't it?" Harry asked incredulously.</p>
<p>"Well, yes, I suppose," Hermione said. "She's just a little… well…eccentric, isn't she?"</p>
<p>"Oh, completely mad," Harry agreed. "At least half the stuff she says. But Ginny was right—she is nice. Plus, I'm pretty sure if I step on her toes when we're dancing, she'll just blame it on the whirling wimperbees or something."</p>
<p>Hermione considered that and nodded.</p>
<p>"And…" Harry said, but he hesitated.</p>
<p>"What?" Hermione asked, glancing his way.</p>
<p>"Well, she's pretty smart, too, right?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Based on what? Her knowledge of nonexistent creatures?" Hermione asked stiffly.</p>
<p>"No," Harry said. "Because she kept up with you."</p>
<p>He glanced at her, grinning, and she couldn't help but blush at the compliment.</p>
<p>"Did you find anything out about the merpeople?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Oh, yes," she said. How could she possibly have forgotten about that? "Apparently, if you want to understand Mermish, you just have to go underwater."</p>
<p>"Brilliant, Hermione!" he said.</p>
<p>She beamed.</p>
<p>"I don't suppose the showers in the dorms would work, would they?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"No, I think the egg's got to be completely submerged," Hermione said. "You need a lake or a pond—though it's far too cold out for that—or a bath."</p>
<p>"Where am I supposed to find a bath?" Harry asked miserably.</p>
<p>Hermione gave him an incredulous look.</p>
<p>Harry read her meaning—that she knew exactly where to find a bath and he should too—and grumbled, "Please don't ask me if you're the only one who's read <em>Hogwarts, A History</em>."</p>
<p>"I was going to ask if I'm the only one who ever listened to Percy Weasley," she replied.</p>
<p>"Oh," he responded, thinking about it. Then he shrugged. "Probably."</p>
<p>"Well, there isn't a single thing about being a prefect that Percy <em>didn't</em> talk about, and apparently the prefects have a bath in their bathroom," Hermione informed him. "The map should tell us where it is, but it's password protected, so we'll have to figure that out."</p>
<p>But she was confident they would—they always did.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione awoke early on Christmas Day to a pile of presents. She'd remained behind at school for the holidays the past two years, but most other students had gone home, including Parvati and Lavender.</p>
<p>So it was a bit of a different experience for her, waking up on Christmas morning in a full dorm.</p>
<p>"Happy Christmas!" Lavender said happily, as she opened a pink glittery package and revealed diamond earrings.</p>
<p>"Oh, Lavender, those'll look perfect with your dress!" Parvati gushed. "Happy Christmas, Hermione!"</p>
<p>"Happy Christmas," Hermione replied, turning to her own pile of presents.</p>
<p>She'd sent an owl with gifts for her parents last week; she'd ordered that book on dragon dentistry that she'd found while helping Harry research for the first task—she thought they'd find it interesting—and also sent her mum a new scarf and her dad a new set of driving gloves.</p>
<p>They'd returned in kind with several packages—mostly new clothes for her to wear, some muggle books, as well as a lovely silver necklace with a note from her mum to wear it to the Yule Ball.</p>
<p>She also received a box of sweets from Hagrid—all store-bought, thankfully; a hat in Gryffindor colors from Ginny; a book on rare magical plants from Neville—it was one of his favorites—and a beautiful set of new quills from Harry.</p>
<p>She had sent Ron some chocolate frogs—unsure exactly where they stood—and had received cauldron cakes in return.</p>
<p>After dressing, Hermione went down to the common room to meet up with Neville and Harry.</p>
<p>Secluded in a corner, the three of them spent most of the morning sizing up the various Gryffindor prefects to decide who to ask about the password to the bathroom. It's a conversation they'd been having for a few days; Hermione had once bitterly suggested they blackmail Davey Willis into telling them—she was still annoyed that a prefect was illegally making firewhisky—but while that had earned a smile from Harry, they all agreed a Gryffindor prefect would be best.</p>
<p>"If only Fred or George were a prefect," Neville commented, "then it would be easy."</p>
<p>Hermione snorted derisively. "Peeves has a better chance of being made prefect than those two."</p>
<p>"But honestly, Harry, I think you can ask any of them," Neville added. "They <em>want</em> to see you win."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I guess," Harry said, but Hermione noticed that Harry was a bit subdued, like his head wasn't entirely in this conversation.</p>
<p>After lunch, Fred asked if they wanted to join in a snowball fight, but with a glance at Ron, Harry declined.</p>
<p>"What's up?" she asked him, as the three of them wandered the grounds, Neville holding a jar full of blue flames she had conjured for warmth.</p>
<p>"Nothing," Harry said, when clearly, it wasn't nothing.</p>
<p>"Does it have something to do with that gift from Mrs. Weasley?" Neville asked. Harry looked at him questioningly, and Neville shrugged. "You've been acting weird since you opened it."</p>
<p>Mrs. Weasley had always sent Harry jumpers, the same as her own children, ever since their first year. It was a running joke between Hermione and Lee Jordan that they were the B-List Best Friends, but they both knew it was because while Lee and Hermione got a pile of presents on Christmas, Harry got relatively few.</p>
<p>Hermione didn't believe that Mrs. Weasley would treat Harry differently just because of his fight with Ron—but there was a time she wouldn't have believed Ron would abandon Harry either.</p>
<p>What did she send?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"A green jumper," Harry said.</p>
<p>"That's what she usually sends you," Hermione noted, watching him carefully. He was walking between them, looking down at the snow, studiously avoiding both of their faces.</p>
<p>"Exactly," Harry said. "Isn't it weird for me to wear it when I'm not friends with Ron anymore? She's <em>his</em> mother."</p>
<p>He looked uncertain and more than a little sad—a part of him must have thought that losing Ron meant losing the entire Weasley family, and Hermione knew just how much being wanted by them meant to Harry. She couldn't help but feel a flare of anger toward Ron—Harry had already lost too much in his life to now be worried about <em>this.</em></p>
<p>"She doesn't send you presents because you're Ron's friend," Hermione told him, perhaps a bit more forcefully than she intended. "She's never sent <em>me</em> a Christmas present. She sends you presents because she cares about you."</p>
<p>"Plus, you're still friends with Fred and George, aren't you?" Neville chimed in. "Fred just asked you to be on his team in their snowball fight."</p>
<p>"That's right," Hermione agreed. "Fred and George know all about your fight with Ron and that hasn't changed how they act around you."</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry said slowly. "But it's not exactly like I can spend my summers at the Burrow, bunking in Ron's room anymore, can I? And what if… what if Ron hasn't told Mrs. Weasley about our fight? And when she does find out, she doesn't want…"</p>
<p>He trailed off before he could say "me."</p>
<p>Hermione grabbed his hand on an impulse, and though their hands were separated by the layers of wool from their gloves, she hoped he could somehow feel the comfort she was trying to give him.</p>
<p>Hermione thought it was a distinct possibility that Ron hadn't told Mrs. Weasley anything, but even when she did find out, Hermione couldn't possibly see Mrs. Weasley abandoning Harry.</p>
<p>"Mrs. Weasley won't stop caring about you just because you fought with her son, Harry," Hermione said firmly, before adding dryly, "If anything, she'd probably blame Ron."</p>
<p>"Well, it was his fault," Neville retorted, earning a half smile from Harry.</p>
<p>"Honestly, Harry, she thinks of you like a son," Hermione said. "I know she does."</p>
<p>She couldn't possibly be sure on account of how thick her gloves were, but she thought she might have felt his fingers curl around hers.</p>
<p>"And… if you'd feel too awkward going to the Burrow… if you want, you both could always spend the summers at my place," Neville said, a little shyly. "I don't have loads of people around except for Gran who's sort of frightening, but we've got a lake and the food is good and sometimes Great Uncle Algie puts on these brilliant firework displays."</p>
<p>"That would be great," Hermione beamed, and even Harry couldn't help but smile at the offer.</p>
<p>They hung around for another hour after that—the mood considerably lighter—but then Hermione had to head back up to the castle. It was time to get ready for the ball.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry was in a part of the castle he'd never been before, heading up a spiral staircase to what he hoped was Ravenclaw Tower—it should be, if he'd followed Katie Bell's instructions properly.</p>
<p>He climbed the last step, adjusting his bottle green dress robes and looked up—and knew he was in precisely the right place. Standing in front of a door with no knob, and only a bronze knocker in the shape of a keyhole, were Cedric Diggory and Cho Chang, looking decidedly happy to see each other.</p>
<p>Harry felt like he'd been punched in the stomach—if he'd only gotten there sooner, <em>he</em> could be here with Cho. They had essentially found her at the same time.</p>
<p>He paused, not wanting to interrupt, to have to talk to them, but there was also nowhere else to go.</p>
<p>And then Diggory saw him.</p>
<p>"Hey, Harry," he said amiably.</p>
<p>Cho turned and saw him too. "Hi," she said.</p>
<p>"Hi."</p>
<p>"Is your date in Ravenclaw, too?" Cedric asked politely.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry said.</p>
<p>"Oh, you're going with Luna, right?" Cho asked. "She's been so excited! You know what, let me go tell her you're here."</p>
<p>And before Harry could respond, a group of Ravenclaw sixth years had opened the door to leave, and Cho disappeared inside, leaving Cedric and Harry standing there.</p>
<p>"You're going to the ball with Luna Lovegood?" Cedric asked curiously.</p>
<p>"We're friends," Harry said defensively, as if daring Cedric to make fun of her. He'd heard enough about "Loony Lovegood" from Seamus and Dean, and while a part of him wished Luna wasn't so weird, she was one of the few people he'd ever met who didn't make a big deal about his scar or his past, and that counted for something.</p>
<p>But Cedric surprised him.</p>
<p>"She's a sweet kid," he said.</p>
<p>"You know her?" Harry was surprised.</p>
<p>"We grew up in the same area," Cedric explained. "The Weasleys too, although they usually kept to themselves. My mum was good friends with Luna's, so she was always over our house when we were younger. She loved playing with my puffskein."</p>
<p>He smiled fondly, but then it faltered. "After her mum died, she stopped coming over," he added. "But I always really liked her."</p>
<p>Harry hadn't known that Luna's mum was dead, and he wasn't sure what to say.</p>
<p>"Listen," Cedric said, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I owe you for the dragons. You know that golden egg? Does yours wail when you open it?"</p>
<p>"Yeah."</p>
<p>"Well… take a bath, OK?"</p>
<p>"I worked that bit out," Harry told him defensively, not wanting Cedric to think he was so stupid he couldn't work out a riddle. "But there aren't exactly a lot of baths in Hogwarts."</p>
<p>Cedric looked relieved, clearly glad to have a way to repay Harry. "Use the prefects' bathroom," he said. "Fourth door to the left of the statue of Boris the Bewildered on the fifth floor. The password is Pine Fresh."</p>
<p>"Er, thanks," Harry said.</p>
<p>The door opened and Cho and Luna appeared. Luna was wearing seafoam green robes, and an elaborate half-updo with seashells strewn throughout her hair. She looked nice in an unusual way—Harry supposed that was always how Luna Lovegood looked—and he had the distinct impression that she resembled a mermaid, which seemed appropriate given what he knew about the second task.</p>
<p>"Hi, Luna," Harry said. "You look nice."</p>
<p>Luna smiled serenely. "So do you," she said.</p>
<p>"You look great, Luna," Cedric smiled. "How's your dad?"</p>
<p>"He's doing well. He's got a riveting cover story coming out about the Rotfang conspiracy," she told him. Turning to Harry, she added, "Dad runs <em>The Quibbler.</em>"</p>
<p>Harry wasn't sure what <em>The Quibbler</em> was, but from the dubious expression on Cho's face, he didn't think she liked it.</p>
<p>But Cedric smiled affectionately at Luna. "I can't wait to read it."</p>
<p>Cho looked at Cedric quizzically, clearly astonished, but Harry got the impression that Cedric was not particularly interested in the Rotfang conspiracy—whatever that was—and was indulging Luna a bit to make her feel good. Much as Harry wanted to dislike Cedric for being Cho's date, he felt his anger at him dissipating a bit.</p>
<p>"Do you two want to walk down with us?" Cedric offered.</p>
<p>Despite his waning irritability toward Cedric, Harry couldn't think of anything he'd like to do less.</p>
<p>"Oh, no," Luna said dreamily, taking Harry's arm. "We'll be down in a minute."</p>
<p>Cedric and Cho went down the stairs, leaving Harry standing awkwardly with Luna outside Ravenclaw Tower, wondering why she was hanging on his arm and if he had severely miscalculated her interest in him.</p>
<p>"Did you forget something?" Harry asked. Why were they still standing there?</p>
<p>"No," Luna said, dropping his arm. "But it seemed like you'd rather not go with them."</p>
<p>Harry was unnerved by how well Luna could read him.</p>
<p>"Right," he said, not bothering to deny it. "Well, they're well ahead of us now. Should we go?"</p>
<hr/>
<p>The entrance hall was packed. He saw Fred and George entertaining Angelina and Alicia with some wild story, and Parvati talking excitedly to Dean, while her sister, Padma, looked far less excited beside them next to Ron. As Seamus had relayed it to Harry the other day, Dean had asked Parvati and gotten Ron a date with her sister.</p>
<p>Pansy Parkinson was hanging onto Malfoy's arm like she had a death grip, and Fleur Delacour, accompanied by Roger Davies, floated through like she owned the place.</p>
<p>The oak front doors opened, and the Durmstrang contingent walked in, Krum leading the pack with Hermione.</p>
<p>Except it wasn't Hermione—not as Harry had ever seen her.</p>
<p>Her hair was different—sleek and shiny, and twisted up in an elegant, elaborate knot—and she seemed to be standing a bit taller than normal, smiling nervously. Without all of her hair overwhelming her face, the light dusting of freckles on her nose seemed more prominent, but her warm brown eyes were the same—tonight they were sparkling with excitement.</p>
<p>"Have you been attacked by wrackspurts?" Luna suddenly asked him in a concerned voice.</p>
<p>"W-what?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes from Hermione to look at her in confusion. "What are wrackspurts?"</p>
<p>They're invisible creatures that float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy," Luna informed him. "You looked like one might have gotten you."</p>
<p>"Er, no, I don't think so," Harry said, hoping he wasn't wandering around with a dumb look on his face.</p>
<p>"Hi, Harry! Hi, Luna!" Hermione said excitedly, as Professor McGonagall instructed the champions and their partners to stand to the side while everyone else entered the Great Hall; then the champions could make their grand entrance.</p>
<p>"Hi," Harry replied. "You look great!" Hermione beamed at him.</p>
<p>And then the champions and their dates were walking inside, with everyone staring at them. Harry wasn't sure if he heard more disbelief directed toward Luna or Hermione, but both irritated him. For her part, Luna didn't seem to notice at all, walking serenely beside Harry, eyes straight ahead, that dreamy look on her face, as they headed to the table where the judges were sitting. He couldn't see Hermione behind him, but he hoped none of the gossip was ruining her night.</p>
<p>Finally, they arrived at the table, and Harry was surprised to see Percy Weasley sitting there instead of Mr. Crouch. He pointed to an empty seat next to him, in which Harry sat, and then Percy droned on about how he'd gotten a promotion and the details of Mr. Crouch's welfare.</p>
<p>And Hermione wondered why no one listened to him.</p>
<p>"You work for the Department of International Magical Cooperation?" Luna asked.</p>
<p>"Yes," Percy said pompously.</p>
<p>"So then you know all about Cornelius Fudge's deal with the Spanish government to use his army of heliopaths to take over France?"</p>
<p>"The—the what?" Percy blinked, clearly confused.</p>
<p>"His deal to take over France," Luna repeated. "Everyone knows there's a colony of loompaloos living in the Eiffel Tower. They're so valuable, of course Fudge wants them for himself."</p>
<p>Percy looked at her like she had three heads. "Er, right," he said, glancing at Harry skeptically before turning the other way to speak with Cedric Diggory. He did not turn Harry's way again.</p>
<p>Harry leaned toward Luna's ear and whispered, "You're the best proper friendship date ever." She beamed.</p>
<p>The dinner was much more pleasant after that. Harry had caught Cedric's eye once in commiseration—Percy had exhausted his current work activities and was back on cauldron bottoms—and Harry couldn't help but feel bad for Cedric, despite who his date was—and grateful that he told Harry about the prefects' bathroom so Harry didn't have to spend all night trying to get Percy to tell him more about it.</p>
<p>Far too soon, dinner was over. Dumbledore cleared the hall of tables to make way for a dance floor and a platform for the Weird Sisters to play on. He indicated that the champions should take their places on the dance floor to open the Yule Ball. Harry stared straight ahead, refusing to look anyone in the eye for fear they'd trip him up somehow, and then turned to Luna. He placed his hand on her waist and took her other hand as Hermione had showed him, and was grateful that his hands didn't feel clammy at all.</p>
<p>The music started and he began to steer them around, concentrating on the steps and not tripping over his feet. Luna looked up at him placidly—that's right, he was supposed to look at his partner's face—and he gave her a small smile.</p>
<p>"Sorry," he said. "I'm not that great at this."</p>
<p>"Oh no," Luna said enthusiastically. "I've never danced with anyone at all, so you're the best dance partner I've ever had."</p>
<p>Despite how good-natured Luna was, Harry was still grateful when other couples joined them on the dance floor. Neville and Ginny were nearby—Neville gave him a thumbs up as he passed Harry, though he was having a bit more trouble himself. He stepped on Ginny's foot every third move, but Hermione's cushioning charm seemed to be working because Ginny was laughing at whatever Neville was saying. Fred was doing some sort of jig that was completely inappropriate to the music—though Angelina was dancing just as exuberantly as him—and Seamus looked rather like Harry felt about dancing as he passed by with Lavender.</p>
<p>Moody, dancing with Professor Sinistra, complimented his socks—a mismatching pair of red and green ones that he could see with his magical eye—and Harry informed him that they were a gift from his friend, Dobby, who worked in the kitchens.</p>
<p>"You're friends with a house elf?" Luna asked, and while her pale eyebrows made her look perpetually surprised, he could tell that she was actually shocked—but in a delighted sort of way.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry told her. "I sort of helped free him a couple of years ago, and now he works at Hogwarts."</p>
<p>"How interesting! I've never met a house elf before, and I think I'd quite like to," Luna said. "I know I could just go down to the kitchens, but that seems a little rude, don't you think? To just interrupt them while they're working and expect them to cater to me?"</p>
<p>"Actually, I think they'd like it," Harry told her, and couldn't get the thought of a conversation between Luna and Dobby out of his mind. Grinning, he added impulsively, "Tell you what, next time we go down there, why don't you come with us?"</p>
<p>"I'd love to!" Luna said, smiling happily.</p>
<p>Harry smiled, thinking Luna and Hermione might just get along better than he first thought.</p>
<p>And when the first song ended, he felt even more kinship for Luna when she said, "We don't have to dance for this one. You don't seem to like it, and I'm not sure if I do either."</p>
<p>They exited the dance floor, and found Neville and Ginny getting butterbeers.</p>
<p>"It's great, isn't it?" Neville said, looking around. "The pork chops were the best I ever had! And I've never seen the Weird Sisters in person!"</p>
<p>Harry had to admit that the Weird Sisters <em>were </em>very good.</p>
<p>"What was Percy talking about at dinner?" Ginny asked them curiously.</p>
<p>"His promotion," Harry told her. "And cauldron bottoms."</p>
<p>Ginny grinned.</p>
<p>The song ended and a new one—just as fast as the last—started up.</p>
<p>"Do you want to go again?" Neville asked Ginny.</p>
<p>"Sure," she said. They turned to look at Harry and Luna.</p>
<p>"Not right now," Luna said, to Harry's relief.</p>
<p>They finished their butterbeers and were about to head to the tables to relax, when he saw Ron sitting nearby, glaring angrily at the dancers, while Padma Patil looked bored and annoyed beside him. He looked around for his friends—Dean and Seamus were still on the dance floor and he spotted Hermione somewhere in the middle.</p>
<p>"How about we check out the garden?" Harry asked and Luna agreed.</p>
<p>The teachers had transformed an area of the lawn into a grotto filled with fairy lights, flowers, statues and ornamental paths. Luna and Harry ambled this way and that.</p>
<p>They passed a Ravenclaw girl with curly, reddish-blonde hair that Harry recognized as one of Cho Chang's friends, and she gave Luna an incredulous look before turning to her date, giggling and loudly whispering something very rude that Harry would never repeat about "Loony."</p>
<p>Luna either didn't hear or didn't care because she didn't seem to have a reaction, but Harry frowned. He hadn't thought Cho would be friends with someone like that.</p>
<p>Luna started transfiguring the roses into crocuses and snapdragons in wild, chaotic arrangements of electric blue, bright orange and fuschia. Aunt Petunia would think it vulgar and disordered, but Harry found he rather preferred Luna's version of the garden.</p>
<p>But then they heard harsh whispers. He motioned to her to stop moving and listened.</p>
<p>It was Snape and Karkaroff. Karkaroff was fretting about something getting clearer, and Snape snarled at him to flee if he wanted. They rounded the corner, Snape magically moving rose bushes to catch snogging couples, and Harry tried very hard to look like he hadn't just been eavesdropping on them.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?" Snape barked, as Karkaroff looked on uncomfortable.</p>
<p>Before Harry could answer, Snape caught sight of some of Luna's transfigured flowers.</p>
<p>"Defiling the garden, I see," he sneered.</p>
<p>Harry, who thought Luna had done a rather good job, retorted, "There's nothing wrong with those flowers!"</p>
<p>Snape looked at him coolly. "Seeing as how I doubt Potter has the mental capacity to transfigure a napkin into a tissue, 10 points from Ravenclaw, Ms. Lovegood."</p>
<p>Then, he added, "And 10 from Gryffindor for your lip, Potter."</p>
<p>He swept away with Karkaroff following. Harry felt the usual helpless anger he did after an encounter with Snape.</p>
<p>"He's not a very pleasant man, is he?" Luna commented as blandly as if they were discussing the weather. Harry chuckled, feeling himself calm down. That was the understatement of the year.</p>
<p>They turned the corner and saw two large figures sitting on a bench by the fountains. It was Hagrid and Madame Maxime.</p>
<p>"Momen' I saw yeh, I knew," Hagrid said huskily. Harry froze. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but instinctively, he knew he shouldn't be listening to this. He turned and saw Roger Davies and Fleur Delacour half concealed in a rose bush nearby. He jerked his head that way, indicating to Luna that they should go around them and leave, but she cocked her head curiously at them.</p>
<p>"Is that what snogging is supposed to look like?" Luna asked.</p>
<p>Harry couldn't help but take a closer look at them, and found he couldn't look away, much as he wanted to. Roger Davies looked like he was eating Fleur Delacour's face, and Harry supremely hoped that it <em>wasn't</em> what snogging was supposed to look like—certainly that's not how he'd seen it done by the older students (the ones who didn't bother to find an empty classroom) in the Gryffindor common room. Maybe Davies was just an exceptionally bad kisser, or Fleur's veela charm was making him a bit too exuberant—because it did not look enjoyable at all.</p>
<p>Roger Davies moved to Fleur's neck.</p>
<p>"Perhaps he's a vampire," Luna said conversationally.</p>
<p>As if she could feel their eyes on her—or perhaps hear Luna as she wasn't exactly whispering—Fleur opened her eyes and shot daggers at Harry.</p>
<p>Harry took a step back, not wanting to pass by Fleur <em>now</em>, but tripped over the hem of his dress robes, falling backward. He crashed into the rose bush—it had been de-thorned thankfully—and slammed his hand down on a stone reindeer to try to break his fall, nearly crushing a beetle in the process.</p>
<p>"Harry, are you all right?" Luna called, starting toward him to help him up. He looked over her shoulder and saw Fleur snickering at him.</p>
<p>Hagrid and Madame Maxime seemed to hear the commotion as well, realized they were not quite alone in the grotto, and walked off toward Hagrid's hut arm in arm.</p>
<p>For his part, Harry couldn't help but laugh—he had <em>actually</em> tripped over the hem of his dress robes and fallen at the Yule Ball. Luna looked at him, a bit bewildered at what was funny, and the idea that Luna Lovegood of all people thought him a bit mad made him laugh even harder.</p>
<p>She held out her hand to help him up, and Harry's laughs subsided as he shook out his dress robes.</p>
<p>"Maybe we'd better go back in?" Harry said. Luna nodded.</p>
<p>But they'd barely made it to the entrance hall when they saw Neville and Ginny rushing toward them, frantic.</p>
<p>"Have you seen Hermione?" Neville asked hurriedly.</p>
<p>"No, what happened?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"My idiot brother," Ginny fumed, and for once she didn't flush when she spoke directly to Harry.</p>
<p>"What'd he do?"</p>
<p>"He attacked Hermione," Neville said, disgusted. "We were halfway across the Great Hall and we could hear him screaming. All of this stuff about how she's fraternizing with the enemy."</p>
<p>"He was just jealous," Ginny chimed in. "If he wanted to go to the ball with Hermione, he should have just asked her."</p>
<p>"And she was having such a good time too," Neville interjected. "She and Krum were on the dance floor for ages."</p>
<p>"But then they took a break, and Hermione went to go talk to Ron, and he just went off," Ginny added.</p>
<p>"He brought you into it, too, if you can believe that—how Krum's only using her to get to you or so he can get her help working out the egg. How she should know better. It was really awful," Neville said furiously.</p>
<p>Harry felt the anger rising in him.</p>
<p>"Hermione stormed off before we could get over there, but Ginny used the bat-bogey hex on Ron," Neville said.</p>
<p>"You hexed you brother?" Luna asked.</p>
<p>"Well, he deserved it," Ginny retorted, and then waved it off, adding, "Besides, I do it all the time at home."</p>
<p>Harry had never seen Ginny hex anyone at the Burrow, but Ron had always said that Ginny was a completely different person when Harry was around.</p>
<p>"But now we can't find Hermione. She can't have gotten far," Neville added. "It just happened."</p>
<p>"Right," Harry nodded. "Why don't you two go check the girls' bathrooms, Neville, you can check the Great Hall and I'll take a look around here?"</p>
<p>They nodded and hurried off, and Harry turned and walked briskly back into the grotto. He was just passing the bench where Hagrid and Madame Maxime had been sitting when he spotted a girl in blue dress robes on the other side of the fountain.</p>
<p>He'd expected her to be crying, but as he approached her, he saw her eyes were dry and cold, her chin raised defiantly, arms crossed over her chest.</p>
<p>Harry sat down slowly beside her, his hands flat on his knees, their upper arms slightly brushing.</p>
<p>"He's a prat," Harry said.</p>
<p>Hermione sniffed. "So you've heard then? I suppose the whole school has," she said angrily.</p>
<p>"I don't know about that," Harry said, thinking she was probably right, but not wanting to make it worse for her. "Neville told me what happened."</p>
<p>Hermione swiveled on the carved bench and turned to face Harry. "I never told him a single thing about the egg, Harry," she swore. "And we never talked about you at all, except for Viktor commenting that you're very good at flying."</p>
<p>Harry looked at her incredulously. "Hermione, I know that you would never tell him anything," he said. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."</p>
<p>She smiled at him, relief evident on her face—but that bothered him a bit.</p>
<p>"Hermione, you didn't <em>actually</em> believe I'd think you were helping Krum, did you? After everything you've done for me?"</p>
<p>"Well, no," Hermione said, looking down. "Not <em>really</em>. It's just—Ron can get under my skin I suppose. And to think, he of all people was lecturing me on loyalty to you."</p>
<p>"I told you," Harry said. "He's a prat."</p>
<p>She let out a disbelieving laugh, and he was thoroughly confused. Seeing the look on his face, she elaborated for him. "I never thought I'd see the day when you were choosing my side over his," she said.</p>
<p>"What's that mean?"</p>
<p>"Oh, I know you've always been my friend, Harry," she said, waving her hand around to emphasize her point. "But you two always took each other's side."</p>
<p>Harry didn't think this assessment was particularly fair. Ron and Hermione fought a lot, and most of the time, he took the neutral option, figuring it would just run its course. The only time he'd ever really gotten mad at Hermione was last year over the Firebolt—and Ron was mad at her for a completely different reason: Crookshanks. And, Harry <em>had</em> tried to get Ron to lay off of her.</p>
<p>Though, when he thought about it, there's no way she could have known that he'd done that, so he supposed if he looked at it from her point of view, it did seem like he'd taken Ron's side entirely.</p>
<p>And, they <em>had</em> frozen her out for weeks. And thinking about it now, after everything she'd done for him since then, after she stood by him when almost no one else had, making such a big deal over a broomstick seemed a bit childish.</p>
<p>And then he looked at her sad brown eyes and felt that maybe it wasn't so important to argue with her about what he did or didn't do in the past, it wasn't important to be right in this moment. Regardless of any of that, she had been hurt—and he hadn't exactly behaved perfectly.</p>
<p>"I guess I can be a bit of a prat sometimes, too," he said.</p>
<p>She looked at him questioningly, and then smiled, bumping her shoulder playfully into his. "You're all right most of the time," she said teasingly.</p>
<p>"I'm sorry Ron ruined your night."</p>
<p>"Well, he didn't improve the night, that's for sure," Hermione said stiffly. "Though I can't say he<em> completely</em> ruined it."</p>
<p>Harry looked at her curiously.</p>
<p>She blushed. "Well, Viktor's very nice, but I think perhaps we're better as friends."</p>
<p>"Really?"</p>
<p>"Everything seemed great at dinner when other people were around, but the longer we danced and talked, just us… We've never held a conversation for as long as tonight. And… there just wasn't anything there," Hermione said, shrugging.</p>
<p>"So you've had an awful time tonight?" he asked. He knew how excited she had been about this ball.</p>
<p>She looked at him contemplatively. "Not awful, no," she said. "Viktor's been a perfectly pleasant companion. He's different than you would think he is, coming from Durmstrang and all. He really is sweet, and I think he could be a good friend. And I <em>did</em> enjoy the dancing. But, I guess a part of me had just hoped…"</p>
<p>"Your first ball would be special?" Harry asked, remembering what she had said about Luna.</p>
<p>She smiled wistfully. "Yes," she said.</p>
<p>"But, this is all a bit of a fantasy, isn't it?" she added, gesturing down to her blue dress robes, and Harry had a fleeting thought that she looked a bit like Cinderella.</p>
<p>They sat in silence, watching the sparkling jets shoot up from the fountain in a dazzling display, an arrangement of colors and water fluidly moving around the pool in patterns that kept changing.</p>
<p>It was beautiful, he thought, as he felt Hermione relax a bit beside him, leaning her head on his shoulder. He glanced down and could see she was more content now—she was almost smiling, her eyes fixed on the show.</p>
<p>As he felt her rhythmic breaths, watching red, green and blue streams of water mix with jets of bubbles in the shape of silver stars and gold bells, he couldn't help but think that despite how good Luna had turned out as a date—he honestly liked being her friend—sitting here in the quiet with his best friend, away from all of the crowds and whispers, was the most fun he'd had all night.</p>
<p>But as the jets lowered and the fountain turned tranquil again, they could hear the music drift out from the castle. Hermione turned her head, her longing obvious in her expression.</p>
<p>He might prefer it out here, but she liked dancing.</p>
<p>"Come on," Harry said, standing up. "We can still salvage some of the ball. Let's go dance."</p>
<p>"You hate dancing," Hermione said doubtfully.</p>
<p>"You don't," he replied, shrugging.</p>
<p>She smiled at him, shy and hopeful at first and then it turned into a grin, and they walked back in side by side. As they entered the Great Hall, Hermione glanced around apprehensively.</p>
<p>"Ron's not here," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione eyed him suspiciously. "What'd you do?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Not me, Ginny," Harry informed her. "Used the bat-bogey hex on him."</p>
<p>She looked like she was warring between grinning and disapproving of such tactics, and settled for leading him onto the dance floor.</p>
<p>Harry saw Neville, Ginny and Luna across the room, and they all looked relieved to see him and Hermione. Luna said something that made Ginny and Neville laugh, and then Ginny launched into a story that had their rapt attention.</p>
<p>The Weird Sisters started up a new song, and Harry was thankful that it was a slow one. He and Hermione hadn't covered how you were supposed to dance to a fast one.</p>
<p>He took her hand in his and found that it felt familiar. She smiled as she put her hand on his shoulder.</p>
<p>While Harry knew intellectually that there were people dancing all around them, and others watching them and whispering, he focused on Hermione's hand in his, her warm brown eyes an anchor as he let all of his anxieties about looking stupid go, closing out everyone else; it was as if it were just the two of them. He didn't know if he'd ever <em>like</em> dancing, but seeing the delighted expression on her face, Harry thought that it was worth it.</p>
<p>Before he knew it, the people around him stopped moving—the song was over. She slid her hand off his shoulder, and he surprised himself when he asked her if she wanted another go.</p>
<p>She beamed at him, and they began to dance again.</p>
<p>He felt more comfortable this time around, and looked around a bit. When he saw that Lee Jordan and Cormac McLaggen were both holding their dance partners a little differently, he decided to experiment, sliding his hand further along her back.</p>
<p>Not having though this through, what this served to do was bring their bodies closer together. He could no longer see her eyes—as they were about the same height, they were now cheek to cheek, their faces almost touching—but he felt her cheek jut out a bit in a way that could only mean she was smiling, so she must be okay with the change.</p>
<p>Fred and Angelina passed by and Fred gave him a lascivious grin and a wink, causing Harry's face to feel hot and he wished very much that Hermione had her usual hair because it would surely hide his reaction.</p>
<p>When the song ended, she stepped back, beaming at him.</p>
<p>And then, suddenly, Viktor appeared by their side. Harry had rather forgotten about him.</p>
<p>"Hermione, here you are," he said. "I haff been looking for you."</p>
<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry," she said apologetically. "I got in this fight with Ron, and… and it's a long story."</p>
<p>"May I cut in?" Viktor asked, looking at Harry, his expression unreadable.</p>
<p>But before he could answer, Hermione said hastily, "Actually, let's go sit with my friends. I haven't seen them all night."</p>
<p>She started walking purposefully toward Luna, Ginny and Neville, who were seated at a table nearby. Clearly, she expected them to follow.</p>
<p>As they sat down, Neville passed Harry a gillywater.</p>
<p>"Thanks," Harry said.</p>
<p>"You look like you're having a better night," Ginny said to Hermione. But Hermione was gaping at Ginny.</p>
<p>"What happened to your dress?" she asked.</p>
<p>Harry frowned. Ginny was wearing dress robes in a deep purple color. He didn't think there was anything unusual about how she looked, except for the fact that her robes were really nice—a lot nicer than Ron's had been.</p>
<p>"Oh, that," Ginny said. "I really appreciated you making my old ones fit so well, but then I ran into Percy a few days ago—he was here making final arrangements for Mr. Crouch. And I told him about my dress robes and, well, he bought these for me. He sent them this morning as a Christmas present." She grinned.</p>
<p>Harry was surprised. Percy had always seemed a bit self-absorbed to him—though he did seem to have a soft spot for Ginny.</p>
<p>Ginny caught his look and rolled her eyes. "You've spent too much time with Ron and the twins, Harry," she said. "As it turns out, if you're actually nice to Percy and don't go around pranking and insulting him, he's a really good brother."</p>
<p>"That was really sweet of him," Hermione said.</p>
<p>Ginny shrugged. "Honestly, any of my brothers would have done it. Bill tried to get mum to let him help out with school supplies, but you know mum—too proud to accept help," she said. "Ron should've showed Bill that atrocity she bought for him before we left for Hogwarts—I told him to. There's no way Bill would've let that stand."</p>
<p>"Bill's the one who's a curse-breaker for Gringotts, right?" Neville asked, and Harry got the impression he was trying to turn the discussion away from Ron. He shot Neville a grateful smile.</p>
<p>Ginny nodded.</p>
<p>Viktor seemed interested in that, and asked Ginny a series of questions about Bill's job, and then Charlie's, and then told them all about his uncle who raised winged horses, which wasn't as exciting, but far more practical than dragons.</p>
<p>Harry could see what Hermione meant—Viktor was a lot more down to earth—and normal—than you might expect.</p>
<p>"Oh look, here comes Michael Corner," Luna said. And sure enough, a Ravenclaw boy Harry only sort of knew approached them and asked Ginny to dance. Ginny turned to Neville, who waved her on, and she grinned at him, accepting Michael's hand.</p>
<p>"She's been a good sport all night," Neville explained to them. "But I'm awful at dancing—better leave it to guys like Corner. I'd rather hang out with you all."</p>
<p>Harry told Hermione that Luna wanted to visit Dobby with them, and Hermione filled Luna and Viktor in about S.P.E.W.</p>
<p>Luna, it seems, was just as enthusiastic about S.P.E.W. as Hermione. "It'll be tough, though," Luna commented. "The Ministry won't want to loosen their hold on the house elves' power."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"House elves can do almost everything we can, and they don't need wands to do it," Luna explained. "The Ministry won't want them getting too powerful."</p>
<p>Harry expected Hermione to be scoffing at this, thinking it was another one of Luna's crazy theories, but to his surprise, she was watching Luna thoughtfully.</p>
<p>And then Harry felt a sharp pull on his dress robes as he was tugged upwards.</p>
<p>"Up, you go," Fred said, as George pulled Hermione and Luna up as well. "Enough of being wallflowers."</p>
<p>"Are you Gryffindors or not?" George asked.</p>
<p>"Not," Luna replied.</p>
<p>George squinted at her appraisingly. "You're honorary tonight," he said, leading them back onto the dance floor, while Fred pulled Harry and Neville.</p>
<p>"You too, Krum!" Fred called over his shoulder. "I don't care if you're an international quidditch star; if you want to dance with a Gryffindor, you have to dance with all the Gryffindors!"</p>
<p>The song was a fast one. Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to do as Fred deposited him near Katie, Lee, Angelina and Alicia. But the Weasley twins seemed to be in a contest as to who could dance the most ridiculously, arms and legs flying everywhere—no matter how bad a dancer he was, there's no way he could look as mental as that. As Alicia swung her arm through Harry's and twirled him around, he caught Hermione's eye—Lee and Neville were doing the same to her—and she grinned. He hadn't seen her smiling so wide since the night Madam Pomfrey woke up the petrified students, and she'd run into the Great Hall screaming, "You solved it! You solved it!"</p>
<p>Later, as they all walked back up to Gryffindor Tower together (Michael Corner had asked Luna to walk back with him and his friends, something that seemed to please Ginny immensely—causing Corner to puff up with pride), Hermione turned to Harry and whispered quietly, "Tonight was really wonderful, wasn't it?"</p>
<p>And Harry felt inordinately pleased with himself—after everything she had done to help him time and time again, he had managed to help salvage her night after all.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry didn't see Ron again until he and the other fourth-year Gryffindor boys clambered back up the stairs and into their dorm a little after midnight. He had apparently gotten Ginny's hex to wear off and was seemingly asleep in bed.</p>
<p>Harry changed into his pajamas—Neville, Dean and Seamus did the same—but when Harry turned he saw Ron sitting up, eyeing him warily. Harry felt a surge of anger, but tamped it down.</p>
<p>"Never use me to try to hurt Hermione again," he warned Ron.</p>
<p>And then he shut the hangings on his four-poster bed, and as Ron's face disappeared from sight, swallowed by the darkness of the draperies, it felt very much like an ending.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione awoke on Boxing Day feeling exceptionally relaxed. So the ball hadn't gone <em>exactly</em> as she expected. Ron had been a disappointment, and Viktor had turned out to be an ordinary bloke—but he had the makings of a good friend—but Harry had been wonderful, saying and doing exactly what she needed when she needed it.</p>
<p>Because of the nature of Harry's life, she spent a good deal of her time worrying over and supporting him—but last night, their roles had been reversed and she felt closer to him than ever.</p>
<p>She was pulling her hair back, grateful that it had gone back to normal, when her door burst open and a blur of red hair streaked in and hopped on her bed.</p>
<p>"Finally, you're awake!" Ginny cried, pulling Crookshanks into her arms. She looked like she wanted to explode.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Hermione asked, sitting next to her on the bed, folding her legs under her lap.</p>
<p>"Michael Corner asked me out!" Ginny exclaimed. "And it's all thanks to you!"</p>
<p>"What'd I do?" Hermione asked, confused. She hadn't even talked to Michael Corner last night. "Was that why he came over?"</p>
<p>Ginny leaned in closer. "Well, we'd chatted a bit earlier in the night when we were both getting gillywaters—nothing serious, just a bit of a laugh," she said. "But then I guess he saw me hexing Ron and thought it was hilarious, so he came over and asked me to dance, and <em>then</em> we ran into each other in the entrance hall when the ball was over, and he asked me to go to the next Hogsmeade weekend together!"</p>
<p>Hermione took in the look on Ginny's face—her bright eyes, wide smile. She looked sincerely happy.</p>
<p>"Why didn't you tell me this last night?" Hermione demanded.</p>
<p>Ginny looked at her like she was mental. "In front of my brothers?"</p>
<p>"Fair point… So you like him?" Hermione asked. Ginny had always carried a torch for Harry, and Hermione had never seen her talk about another boy this way.</p>
<p>"I think so," Ginny said, smiling shyly.</p>
<p>"And what about… Harry?"</p>
<p>Ginny frowned, seeming to contemplate that. "Well, he's never shown any interest, has he? And it's quite nice when a boy you fancy actually fancies you back," she said.</p>
<p>And then she threw herself down on Hermione's pillow, a silly grin on her face. "I don't know Michael well, but… you know when you have that moment when you meet someone for the first time and there's just this zing that goes through you?"</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. No, she'd never just met someone and felt that zing. If only she and Ginny had had this conversation <em>before</em> she said yes to Viktor.</p>
<p>Still, she was glad she went. She did think he could be a good friend, and it had been a learning experience, her first date—one she'd only repeat with more careful consideration.</p>
<p>"How <em>did</em> things go with Viktor last night?" Ginny asked, peering closer at her.</p>
<p>"Fine," Hermione shrugged. "No zings though."</p>
<p>"That's too bad," Ginny said, a disappointed look on her face. She was absentmindedly stroking Crookshanks, who was preening at the attention, but Hermione couldn't help but worry about something else—how to tell Viktor that exactly.</p>
<p>After he had found her and Harry dancing—and Hermione had felt a flash of guilt because she was having a better time dancing with Harry than her actual date—she had freaked out a bit at the thought of dancing alone with Viktor again. She knew he felt something a little more than friendship—he had told her he fancied her when he asked her to the ball—and she wasn't quite sure how to handle it, having never been in this situation before, so she'd dragged Viktor and Harry over to the comfort and safety of her friends instead.</p>
<p>She knew Viktor had still had a good time—he seemed to be particularly interested in Bill's job at Gringott's and he was definitely laughing when Katie Bell tried to get him to dance a jig with her—but they didn't have much time alone together after that.</p>
<p>Still, she owed him the conversation, didn't she?</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" Ginny asked.</p>
<p>"How do you tell someone that you just want to be friends?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>Ginny pondered that for a while, a look of great concentration on her face, but at the end of the day, she was a 13-year-old girl who'd had two crushes and no boyfriends in her entire life. "I think we need reinforcements," she declared.</p>
<p>And that's how Hermione and Ginny ended up in the Great Hall for breakfast, with Ginny strategically choosing seats next to Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Hermione looked around nervously—she didn't really want anyone to overhear their conversation. Thankfully, the Yule Ball had tired everyone out and there were very few students at breakfast.</p>
<p>"You two are up early," Alicia said, greeting them, and passing the sausages to Hermione.</p>
<p>Hermione thanked her, but Ginny was clearly on a mission. She looked both Angelina and Alicia in the eyes, a serious expression on her face, and said, "Hermione needs to know how to tell a bloke you just want to be friends."</p>
<p>Alicia and Angelina looked at Hermione speculatively, an interested gleam in their eyes.</p>
<p>"Do you actually want to be friends with him or is it just a brush off?" Alicia asked at the same time Angelina queried, "Which one is it?"</p>
<p>Hermione was befuddled on both counts. "Of course I actually want to be friends," she replied, a bit scandalized. "And what do you mean, which one is it? I only had one date last night!"</p>
<p>Angelina shrugged, raising one eyebrow at Hermione. "You and Harry looked pretty cozy last night," she said. "Fred thought Harry was trying it on a bit."</p>
<p>Hermione gaped at her, sparing a quick glance at Ginny, who didn't look nearly as perturbed as she thought she'd be. Michael Corner must be one seriously good dancer, because even a week ago, Ginny Weasley would never have been so calm at the idea of Harry flirting with anyone—even if the thought of him fancying Hermione was ridiculous.</p>
<p>"Fred likes to stir up trouble," Hermione retorted. "Harry and I are friends. And he likes…someone else." Personally, she thought Harry's crush on Cho was a bit obvious, given that he turned red every time he saw her, but Hermione wasn't about to confirm it to the world.</p>
<p>Angelina looked like she was about to argue back, so Hermione added, "And, considering Fred's idea of cozy was to snog you in the middle of the dance floor, I don't know what he thinks is so scandalous about a bit of dancing."</p>
<p>Alicia laughed openly, but Ginny gave Hermione a look that seemed to say Hermione had been a bit rude. Realizing she might have insulted Angelina, Hermione added, "No offense."</p>
<p>But Angelina grinned at her. "None taken," she laughed. "That snog was 10 points from Gryffindor well worth it."</p>
<p>Ginny's entire demeanor changed. "You only got 10 for snogging?" she said indignantly. "Then why'd I get 20?"</p>
<p>"For what?" Alicia asked.</p>
<p>"Hexing Ron."</p>
<p>"Gryffindor lost 20 points for that?"</p>
<p>Ginny snorted, clearly annoyed. "McGonagall said that I wasn't representing Gryffindor well. But Lee said that what I did was impulsive, reckless and showed great loyalty to a friend, so I was actually representing Gryffindor perfectly."</p>
<p>That <em>would</em> be Lee Jordan's interpretation of events, Hermione thought.</p>
<p>"Well said," Alicia cheered, grinning, before turning to Hermione, a more serious expression on her face. "As long as you're honest with him, it should be fine. If he gets weird or possessive or tries to turn it around on you, then he's not worth being friends with anyway."</p>
<p>"She's right," Angelina nodded. "Just rip the Band-Aid off. The longer you let it go, the worse it'll get. He'll have time to romanticize things. Better to nip it in the bud so he can adjust to reality."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Hermione said, and by the end of breakfast she felt a lot better about things.</p>
<p>As she and Ginny walked up the staircase back to Gryffindor Tower, they passed Seamus and Dean—who waved happily at them—and Ron, who wouldn't look either of them in the eye.</p>
<p>Ginny grimaced after they were gone. "I suppose I should be nice to him for a while," she said. "He deserved what he got, mind you, but—"</p>
<p>"But you embarrassed him in front of the entire school?" Hermione asked quietly.</p>
<p>"Well, he shouldn't have gone around being a git!" Ginny retorted. "Mum would've sent him a howler if she knew the way he'd been behaving."</p>
<p>"As much as I appreciate you sticking up for me last night, I don't want to get between you and your brother," Hermione said. "You don't have to hex him for me anymore."</p>
<p>"I hex him all the time," Ginny said dismissively. "Fred and George, too. It's just the sort of relationship we have."</p>
<p>She eyed Hermione carefully. "Just please don't tell me you're going to pretend like nothing happened with Ron," she said. "I love my brother, but I don't care how much he fancies you, he has no right treating you like dirt."</p>
<p>Hermione sighed. Ginny was constantly telling her that Ron fancied her—but she never bought into the "If a boy pulls your pigtails, he likes you" nonsense. And besides, the only times Hermione could ever remember Ron being even a little bit impressed by her was when she hit Malfoy and stormed out of Professor Trelawney's class. And sure, she'd been flattered in the moment, but when she had time to analyze it later, nothing about that sat right with her. Both of those acts had been decidedly unlike her—why would she like a boy who valued her for the things she wasn't and not the things she was?</p>
<p>"Hermione!" Ginny repeated, "please tell me you're not just going to pretend nothing happened."</p>
<p>"No," Hermione said coolly. "No, he was obviously trying to hurt me last night—and I don't know if it was about me, or Viktor or Harry, but I don't care."</p>
<p>She was tired of having a friend who made her cry. And she was done trying to get him and Harry to be friends again. If Ron wanted back into their lives, <em>he</em> was the one who had to do something about it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Have you figured out which prefect to ask for the password?" Neville asked, as he, Hermione and Harry were lounging in the common room later that day.</p>
<p>"I completely forgot to tell you!" Harry said, sitting up and leaning forward. "I've <em>got </em>the password."</p>
<p>"How?" they both asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"Cedric," Harry replied. "He wanted to return the favor for telling him about the dragons."</p>
<p>"Harry, this is great!" Hermione enthused. "When should we go?"</p>
<p>"You want to come?"</p>
<p>"Well, someone has to stand watch while you're underwater listening to the clue," she rationalized. "Even if you go really late at night, a prefect or a teacher could come by."</p>
<p>And in the end they decided that just Harry and Hermione should go. Two people could fit under the cloak with the egg better than three, and if someone <em>did</em> come by, Hermione was better at both spells and lying to help Harry out.</p>
<p>They waited until the last Gryffindor finally went up to bed, which was very late indeed considering it was still Christmas break, and then snuck down to the fifth floor, Hermione holding the egg while Harry checked the map.</p>
<p>Finally, they reached Boris the Bewildered and stepped into one of the most beautiful rooms Hermione had ever seen: white marble, jeweled fixtures, a soft-lit candle chandelier.</p>
<p>She was looking around in awe, completely enchanted, when Harry glanced at her, grinning.</p>
<p>"You're going to be in here next year," he said. "Well, the girls' one anyway."</p>
<p>"You think?"</p>
<p>Harry made a face like that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard. "McGonagall's had you down for Head Girl since we were first years."</p>
<p>She blushed, busying herself with turning on taps on the giant swimming pool. Harry joined her, and they turned it into a game to see who could find the most extravagant taps. She preferred the one that shot out silver bubbles in the shape of stars.</p>
<p>When it was full, Harry turned to her.</p>
<p>"Er," he said, blushing, "maybe you should—"</p>
<p>"Oh, right!" Hermione yelped, turning around. She heard Harry undressing and looked fixedly at the map. There was no one around.</p>
<p>Finally, she heard a splash and Harry called out, "I'm in!"</p>
<p>Hermione turned back. Harry's pajamas were tossed on the side of the pool, his glasses and a towel beside them. She knew he was still wearing his pants, but all she could see was his head sticking up amongst a swirl of pink, blue and green bubbles, gazing in her general direction, but not at her.</p>
<p>She squinted at him. "Can you see anything?"</p>
<p>"Um, not really, no," he said sheepishly. "I think I can make out your hair."</p>
<p>"It's a pretty big target," she said dryly, picking up the egg and walking it over to the edge.</p>
<p>He grabbed it from her, then took a deep breath and ducked. Hermione checked the map again—still good.</p>
<p>And then she heard a distinct gurgling sound coming from the pool—it was definitely a song, but she couldn't decipher it.</p>
<p>Harry's head popped back up, his wet hair in his eyes and he recited it for her, returning below every so often to catch the next verse:</p>
<p>Come seek us where our voices sound,</p>
<p>We cannot sing above the ground,</p>
<p>And while you're searching ponder this:</p>
<p>We've taken what you'll sorely miss,</p>
<p>An hour long you'll have to look,</p>
<p>And to recover what we took,</p>
<p>But past an hour—the prospect's black</p>
<p>Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.</p>
<p>Harry popped up again, flicking the bubbles from his eyes.</p>
<p>"So, I've got to go find merpeople, right?" he said. "That's got to be the first two lines."</p>
<p>"Right," Hermione said. "So the task must take place in the lake."</p>
<p>"There are merpeople in the lake?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>She shot him an incredulous look that she knew he couldn't see. "One day, you will read <em>Hogwarts, A History.</em>"</p>
<p>Harry grinned at her annoyance, and Hermione couldn't help but grin back.</p>
<p>"And then the rest of it sounds pretty straightforward," she said. "The judges are going to take some object you value and you'll have an hour to retrieve it from the merpeople."</p>
<p>"Yes, very straightforward," Harry agreed sarcastically. "I'm sure merpeople are very accommodating."</p>
<p>"Well, we can figure out how to handle them second," she said. "First, we have to figure out how you'll breathe underwater."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, but then his face settled into panic. Hermione frowned, taking in his bobbing form—he'd been in this pool for a while now and she'd yet to see him do more than bob over to her.</p>
<p>"Harry," she said, feeling the anxiety rising in her, "do you know how to swim?"</p>
<p>"Yes," he said defensively before adding, "I mean, not <em>well</em>… The Dursleys didn't exactly take me on their beach vacations…"</p>
<p>"Do you know well enough to swim in a lake for up to an hour?" She thought perhaps she sounded a bit hysterical.</p>
<p>Harry turned red. Hermione was very glad he couldn't see her panicked face.</p>
<p>"Right," she said, nodding, trying to make her voice sound normal. "We'll just have to teach you to swim."</p>
<p>"There must be a spell for that," Harry muttered.</p>
<p>Hermione perked up. There <em>must</em>. If there was a spell for getting gum out of keyholes, there had to be a spell for something as simple as swimming.</p>
<p>"Right," she said, feeling invigorated. "Now we know what to research: how to swim, how to breathe underwater, and how to fight merpeople."</p>
<p>Harry gave her a look that clearly said that he didn't think that was an easy list at all.</p>
<p>"What else is in the lake?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Just the giant squid—and he's harmless; he saved Dennis Creevey from drowning last September—and grindylows, which you're an expert at," she told him.</p>
<p>"Alright," he said, looking more relieved at that. "So I can get out now?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Hermione said, taking the closed egg from him. He moved to the ladder and before she could turn around fully to give him his privacy, she caught sight of his upper body. And then she felt her heart in her throat.</p>
<p>She faced the wall, feeling utterly awful. It wasn't usually noticeable since he was always wearing Dudley's castoffs or thicker clothes meant for Scottish winters, but he was <em>thin.</em> Oh, he wasn't skeletal or anything—but he was thinner than he should be after four months of Hogwarts eating.</p>
<p>She'd promised herself that she'd <em>do </em>something about it, but between the tasks, and the ball, and her classes, and helping Neville through classes and S.P.E.W.—well, she hadn't done much of anything, had she?</p>
<p>He was <em>not</em> going back to that house, she fumed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry and Hermione were at breakfast the next morning, books scattered all around them. Hermione had brought down anything she owned or had borrowed from the library that she thought could be useful—it was quite a lot—and they had camped out in their own little section of the table. After breakfast, they would go to the library, but she had wanted to get a head start.</p>
<p>Neville couldn't join them today—he was spending the day helping Professor McGonagall organize and inventory the storage room full of matchsticks and pincushions and other inanimate objects she used in Transfiguration for extra credit that he sorely needed—but Hermione thought she and Harry could still make good headway.</p>
<p>But it was no use. Despite the fact that they <em>needed</em> to find a way for Harry to breathe underwater for an hour—and swim and fight merpeople—Hermione couldn't help mulling over the Dursley problem.</p>
<p>Fred and George had said that Mr. Weasley told Professor Dumbledore about the Dursleys, but he obviously hadn't done anything with the information. And while normally she'd go straight to Professor McGonagall—who surely wouldn't approve of the Dursleys—Hermione didn't know if she'd do anything against the headmaster's wishes.</p>
<p>Sirius was the obvious choice, being Harry's actual guardian and all—but he was also a fugitive and didn't exactly have a lot of room to maneuver. Telling him something that would upset him when he had no way of helping Harry right now seemed cruel. And Professor Lupin was in the same boat as the Weasleys—he didn't have any rights over Harry; plus, he was so grateful to Dumbledore for letting a werewolf attend Hogwarts, he just might defer to the headmaster.</p>
<p>Short of asking her parents to drive to Surrey the day they arrived home and picking him up herself, she didn't know if anyone was in the position to help.</p>
<p>Actually, she thought, as she sipped her tea, that wasn't a half-bad idea. Most wizards were so ignorant of muggle life it would probably take anyone ages to realize he was gone.</p>
<p>And, if her parents didn't want a houseguest for the entire summer, Neville <em>had </em>volunteered his home. Hermione didn't know his gran at all but every story Neville told about her made it seem like she was a formidable witch who didn't bow down to anyone.</p>
<p>Maybe it was better to just do that and not involve the school at all—after all, sometimes it was better to ask forgiveness, not permission.</p>
<p>"What are you thinking?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>She looked up, blushing, not wanting to admit to him what she had been planning. He'd looked so lost the last time she had brought up the Dursleys.</p>
<p>And then she eyed his dish, which was nowhere near as full as it could be. She could feel the frown settle on her face—this wouldn't do at all. She grabbed the serving spoon, and started scooping eggs onto his plate.</p>
<p>When she'd scooped enough eggs to feed several Harrys, he looked at her, bewildered. "What are you doing?"</p>
<p>"Swimming takes a lot of energy, Harry. You need to carbo load," she told him. She cringed inwardly—in her agitation, she had slipped into her know-it-all voice.</p>
<p>He looked at her like she was mental. "This is protein."</p>
<p>She looked around the table, feeling a bit wild eyed, and handed him a stack of toast.</p>
<p>He eyed her warily. "Thanks," he said, taking the stack and putting it on his plate.</p>
<p>Okay fine, perhaps she <em>was</em> being a bit mental.</p>
<p>But it still made her feel better as he took a bite of toast; she felt herself relax, concentrating on her books. Now, maybe they could get somewhere on this whole breathing thing.</p>
<p>But after a half hour of neither of them finding anything, they decided to adjourn to the library.</p>
<p>They spent hours up there—only taking a quick break for lunch—but nothing they thought of worked. Not human transfiguration—they wouldn't learn that until sixth year—nor could she find any kind of charm or enchantment that would be any use.</p>
<p>Late in the afternoon, while she was reading <em>101 Unusual Underwater Spells</em>—which told her how to do just about anything underwater except breathe—Harry nudged her and pointed to the library door. She turned and saw Viktor.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath. She just had to take Alicia and Angelina's advice.</p>
<p>"I'll be right back," she said to Harry, before heading over to the table where Viktor had just dropped his things.</p>
<p>"Hi," he said. "I vasn't sure if I should come over. If Harry is vorking on the second task…"</p>
<p>"He is," Hermione said. "But you can still come say hi whenever you like. All of my friends like you."</p>
<p>Viktor smiled. "Yes, the ball vas vonderful, vasn't it?" he said. "Durmstrang is not like that. The staff there fosters competition too much for real friendships like yours. It can be a bit lonely… but Hogwarts is not like that at all."</p>
<p>Hermione saw her opening. "No," she said, before forging ahead. "But I think <em>we</em> could be great <em>friends</em> Viktor. I'd really like that." She looked at him earnestly, willing him to understand, to agree.</p>
<p>Viktor frowned a bit, and then glanced over at Harry again.</p>
<p>"Is it…" He trailed off, and Hermione followed his gaze.</p>
<p>"Honestly, Harry and I have always just been friends," she said. "I don't fancy anyone. But I do think you're interesting and smart and nice, and I <em>would</em> really like to be friends."</p>
<p>She looked down, hesitating, not sure if she should say this, but Hermione Granger wasn't exactly known for her tact. "And given what you've told me about Durmstrang, how unfriendly it is there, and how different you feel from the other students because your schooling is constantly being interrupted by your quidditch schedule, maybe a good friend is what you need right now," she added.</p>
<p>Viktor looked at her contemplatively, and she held her breath, waiting for his response. Angelina and Alicia had said if he responded badly, he wasn't worth her time. And as right as they were about that, she hoped she hadn't been so wrong about Viktor's character.</p>
<p>A small smile crept across his face. "Maybe you're right," he said warmly.</p>
<p>Hermione grinned. That hadn't been so bad after all.</p>
<hr/>
<p>By the time she and Harry returned to the common room, though, she was feeling defeated. After hours more searching for an answer to the mysteries of the second task, they were no closer to a solution. As they slumped on a couch, Hermione turned to Harry. "We've still got almost two months before the task," she said. "We'll find something."</p>
<p>He nodded at her, but when Neville returned to the common room a half hour later, he found them still sitting on the couch looking utterly dejected.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" he asked, a fearful look on his face. They hadn't even had a chance to tell him about the egg yet. While they'd had no issue getting back to Gryffindor Tower—absolutely no one had been up and about in the castle, which was a rarity—Neville had fallen asleep waiting for Harry to return to their dorm.</p>
<p>"The task's impossible," Harry said, and then he told Neville about the prefects' bathroom, the song, and all the research they had done about finding a way to breathe underwater.</p>
<p>When Harry finished, he looked as miserable as Hermione felt, but Neville was staring at them with a mixture of excitement and eagerness.</p>
<p>"Neville," Harry asked carefully, clearly trying to contain his growing hope at Neville's reaction. "What do you know?"</p>
<p>"Gillyweed," he beamed.</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione looked at him blankly.</p>
<p>"Gillyweed," he repeated. "It's a magical plant that's usually found in the Mediterranean. It's in that book Professor Moody gave me, but I already knew all about it. Gran makes me take some anytime I want to swim in our lake. She thinks I'd drown otherwise."</p>
<p>"What does it do?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"It gives you gills and fins. And not only can you breathe underwater, but you can swim as well as a fish, too," Neville said excitedly, a hint of pride in his voice at having been the one to find the solution.</p>
<p>Hermione felt all of her emotions stirring underneath the surface: excitement that they had a solution; relief that Harry wasn't going to survive a dragon just to drown in a lake because the Dursleys were too cheap and negligent to send him to swim lessons; happiness for Neville that he was so pleased with himself; and, if she had to admit it, a bit of disbelief that they had spent all day searching and Neville just… <em>knew</em> the answer.</p>
<p>"Where can I get gillyweed?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Well, Professor Sprout doesn't keep it in any of her greenhouses," Neville said. "Snape probably has some in his office—you need it for some advanced potions—but… it's Snape, so I doubt he'd lend you any. But we can pick some up from the apothecary next Hogsmeade weekend. And if they don't have it, I can just write Gran. We grow it in our greenhouse."</p>
<p>Harry grinned at Neville. "This is brilliant, Neville!"</p>
<p>Hermione nodded vigorously. "Amazing," she enthused.</p>
<p>And Neville, not used to being called brilliant or amazing, beamed proudly.</p>
<p>Hermione turned to Harry. "Now we just have to figure out how to fight merpeople," she said. "And we can definitely find some jinxes and hexes for that."</p>
<p>"The song said you'd have to fight merpeople?" Neville asked, confused.</p>
<p>"Technically, no," Hermione explained. "Just that they've taken something of Harry's and he has to retrieve it."</p>
<p>"So we figured I'd have to fight them somehow—to get it back," Harry finished.</p>
<p>But Neville was frowning, clearly thinking about something, trying to work it through in his head.</p>
<p>"Neville, what is it?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Well, I'm no expert on merpeople, but you know how muggles have all of those children's stories—like Grimms' fairy tales and Aesop's fables? We learned about them in Muggle Studies," Neville said.</p>
<p>"They teach fairy tales in Muggle Studies but not the difference between a nightgown and a suit?" Harry asked in disbelief.</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him and answered dismissively, "It's not a very good class." There was a reason she had dropped it after only one year.</p>
<p>"Well, wizards have fairy tales, too," Neville continued. "The tales of Beedle the Bard and others. Anyway, there's a bunch that revolve around mermaids: Jack Wickleby the Pirate Wizard, The Mermaid and the Mongoose, Secrets of the Lost Lagoon. The common theme in all of them is that merpeople protect hidden treasures, and only allow the worthy to claim it. Someone who's gone on a quest."</p>
<p>"So," Hermione said slowly, "you think the merpeople won't try to attack Harry? Only someone else—someone less worthy?"</p>
<p>"Right," Neville said. "Or if he tried to take one of the other champions' treasure—they probably wouldn't like that."</p>
<p>He looked between the two of them, trying to read their faces, before stammering, "It's probably a dumb idea."</p>
<p>Hermione hated the look on his face—he had just been so excited, so proud of knowing the answer about the gillyweed—but he was completely back in his shell now, having lost all confidence in himself.</p>
<p>And the worst part was, his idea was a good one. There had been tons of times things had seemed obvious to kids who grew up in the wizarding world, but were completely foreign to her and Harry. This could easily be one of those times. She glanced at Harry and could see that he thought the same thing.</p>
<p>"No, I think we should definitely look into it," Hermione said in a way that left no room for debate, giving Neville what she hoped was an encouraging smile.</p>
<p>"Agreed," Harry said, nodding, and Neville grinned.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry spent the last week of Christmas break in the library learning all he could about merpeople. Hermione, who had finished all of her homework the first day of break, alternated between helping him and reading over Neville's essays.</p>
<p>"His knowledge of magic is good," she told Harry confidentially one day. "Some of his essays are even as good as yours. It's just practicing magic that he has an issue with."</p>
<p>Since Harry thought that practicing magic was pretty much the whole point of it, he didn't really know that this thought would be a comfort to Neville.</p>
<p>By the time the Sunday before term started had come around, Neville had finished his work and the trio had worked their way through just about every book in the merpeople section. They'd learned quite a lot about what merpeople looked like, the sorts of dwellings they lived in and the fact that they didn't display magical abilities—something that comforted Harry a bit if he <em>did </em>have to fight them—but they hadn't found anything definitive on whether he would.</p>
<p>Harry had also noticed that Hermione had developed a habit of bringing snacks everywhere she went—she was constantly offering him cauldron cakes and pieces of fruit that she had in her bag. Madam Pince had clearly noticed too because when they arrived at the library on Sunday there was a large sign on their usual table with the words "No food allowed" in blinking, violently bright letters.</p>
<p>But Harry was tired of looking through books anyway.</p>
<p>"Come on," Harry said. "We've looked through enough of these books."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him aghast, as if she were offended on the books' behalf, but followed along with him and Neville as Harry exited the library and headed down the corridor.</p>
<p>"Harry, we have to find these answers," she said, and he could hear the worry in her voice.</p>
<p>"We will," he replied. "But books aren't cutting it."</p>
<p>Hermione definitely looked offended by that statement, but continued to walk with them as Harry cut down the stairs, walked through the entrance hall and out the oak doors of the castle.</p>
<p>"Where are we going?" Neville asked, shivering a bit. As none of them had planned to go outside, they weren't exactly dressed for January in Scotland. Harry continued striding along, clearly set on his path. Hermione followed his fixed gaze.</p>
<p>"Hagrid's?" she asked.</p>
<p>"He knows more about magical creatures than just about anyone," Harry explained.</p>
<p>"Yes, but…isn't he likely to just tell us merpeople are harmless?" Hermione asked. "Even if they're meant to attack you, he'll probably just think they're underwater teddy bears."</p>
<p>Harry thought that was probably an accurate assessment of Hagrid's perspective, but Hagrid still had something the books didn't: Given that he'd lived at Hogwarts for 50 years and was in charge of the grounds, he probably knew these particular merpeople.</p>
<p>In any case, Hagrid was very glad to see them, inviting them in and offering them all a cup of tea. Neville, who had never been on one of these visits, was particularly interested in Hagrid's home—but not particularly interested in sitting anywhere near Fang.</p>
<p>Harry was very glad—and a bit surprised—that Hagrid didn't comment on the fact that Neville was here and not Ron.</p>
<p>"Had a good Christmas, did yeh?" Hagrid asked.</p>
<p>"Yes," Hermione replied. "Thank you for the present."</p>
<p>"Yeah, Hagrid, thanks," Harry added.</p>
<p>Hagrid waved them off. "Was nothing," he said. "Did yeh have a good time at the ball? Firs' one's always exciting."</p>
<p>"We did," Hermione beamed, and Harry felt a bit of pride at how happy she seemed.</p>
<p>"Did you have a good time?" Hermione asked. "I hardly saw you at all."</p>
<p>Harry squirmed a little, thinking of how he had overheard Hagrid and Madame Maxime conversing in low tones and husky voices—she had practically been purring before they'd hurried off to Hagrid's hut together. He really didn't want to hear about <em>that</em>.</p>
<p>But Hagrid's face turned dark. "The ball was alrigh'. We—I—left early though," he said gruffly. Hermione and Neville looked at Harry uncertainly—what was <em>that </em>about?</p>
<p>"But yehs don' wanna hear abou' that," Hagrid said. "Yeh've got more important things ter think abou'. How yeh doin' with that egg, Harry?"</p>
<p>"Great," Harry said. "Really great. Actually, we wanted to ask you something—about those merpeople in the lake?"</p>
<p>"Yeah?" Hagrid asked.</p>
<p>"Well," Harry asked, "what are they like?"</p>
<p>"Oh, they're harmless," Hagrid said, and Hermione shot Harry an I-told-you-so look.</p>
<p>"How do you mean?" Neville asked, taking a sip of the tea Hagrid had offered.</p>
<p>"Well, they've got no magic, 'ave they?" Hagrid asked. "Even if they were ter attack yeh, all they've got is spears and yeh've got a wand. But if yeh really wanna know abou' the merpeople, yeh should ask ol' Kettleburn."</p>
<p>Kettleburn had been the Care of Magical Creatures teacher before Hagrid, and had retired just before the trio had started taking the class.</p>
<p>"He's the one who brought the merpeople ter Hogwarts," Hagrid told them. "Years ago. He was helpin' the Ministry ter deal with some rogue kelpies, and the battle ended up destroyin' the merpeople's home—took most of Kettleburn's left arm, too. So he brought 'em here. Now he's retired, I see him all the time in the Hog's Head—practically lives there."</p>
<p>By the time they left Hagrid's hut, all three were feeling a lot better.</p>
<p>"Well, that's a relief," Hermione declared. "But we should still go talk to Professor Kettleburn when we're in Hogsmeade."</p>
<p>"Hagrid's take on how dangerous creatures are can be a little… skewed," Neville agreed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The first two weeks of classes passed in a blur—Harry was feeling more confident about the second task now. Feeling cheerful for the first time in ages, Harry had even managed to master banishing charms faster than Hermione—albeit by one pillow—something anyone rarely ever accomplished in any class except for Harry in Defense Against the Dark Arts.</p>
<p>Neville didn't have quite the same luck. Instead of the pillow he was aiming for, he often sent Flitwick and their chairs—and once, Flitwick's desk—zooming across the room. But rather than get dejected by his inability to master the spell, Neville told Harry he was just glad Harry was so good at it.</p>
<p>"After all, if the merpeople do pick a fight with you, that's a dead useful spell to know," he said.</p>
<p>Harry couldn't fault the logic in that.</p>
<p>Before he knew it, it was the middle of January and the Hogsmeade weekend was upon them. They had quite a lot to do—Hermione had come up with a plan of attack—so they set out fairly early on the cold January Saturday, passing Viktor Krum diving into the lake in his swimming trunks.</p>
<p>"I guess he's figured out the egg, too," Neville commented.</p>
<p>"I wonder what he's planning to use," Hermione said thoughtfully.</p>
<p>But they didn't have too much time to ponder before they were walking down High Street, straight toward the Apothecary. It was a dark store, filled with jars of slimy substances, fangs and snarled claws hanging from the ceilings and smells so terrible Harry didn't care to identify them. Hermione had to pick up some Potions supplies, and Harry followed Neville straight to the back row of shelves where there were a number of wild and fantastical plants.</p>
<p>Neville inspected the plants with an expert eye, and Harry was very glad he was here, seeing as Harry didn't know what half this stuff was.</p>
<p>"Here," Neville said, grabbing a jar filled with a ball of slimy, greyish green rat tails. "This should last you well over an hour."</p>
<p>Harry took the jar from him and they hurried to the counter, where Hermione was queued up behind Professor Moody.</p>
<p>"Yes, exactly," Moody was saying to Hermione, as Mr. Rothwell wrapped up his boomslang skin and a bicorn horn. "The Impediment Jinx won't protect against truly dark curses like the Unforgivables, but it's an extremely useful spell in an auror's arsenal. At the very least, it can slow down an attack, but when used effectively, it completely stops it."</p>
<p>"And it doesn't seem like a particularly difficult spell to learn?"</p>
<p>"Not at all," Moody shook his head. "Any witch or wizard who can do the Full-Body Bind can master an Impediment Jinx."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded and Moody looked up and saw Harry and Neville.</p>
<p>"All right there, boys?" he said. "Bit early on a Saturday morning for you kids, even if it is a Hogsmeade weekend."</p>
<p>"Well, we've a lot to do," Hermione explained. Rothwell handed Moody his packages, and Moody moved out of the way for Hermione to purchase her things.</p>
<p>"How's that egg, Potter?" Moody asked conspiratorially, before his eye moved down to the jar Harry was holding. Moody grinned. "Well in hand, I see."</p>
<p>"Yes, sir."</p>
<p>"Good for you, Potter," he added, before turning and leaving the shop.</p>
<p>After purchasing their things, they headed straight to the Hog's Head.</p>
<p>"I figured it was best to get here as early as possible, seeing as how we don't know when Kettleburn usually comes by," Hermione said.</p>
<p>"Do you know what he looks like?" Neville asked. They'd never had him as a teacher, and Kettleburn rarely spent much time in the castle during their first two years at Hogwarts, never even attending most of the feasts.</p>
<p>"He'll be the one with all the wooden limbs," Hermione said grimly.</p>
<p>The Hog's Head was not what Harry was expecting. He knew it was a pub in town, and thought perhaps it'd be a bit like the Three Broomsticks. Instead, it was a dark, dingy place where even the dishrags looked filthy. Instead of a raucous crowd, there were only a few patrons—most of whom looked like they'd fit in better in Azkaban—and the bartender was eyeing them suspiciously. Harry patted his hair down over his scar.</p>
<p>"Are you sure we're allowed to be in here?" Neville whispered.</p>
<p>"No," Hermione said. "But the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 was based out of this inn. If anything, we'll say we were just doing research for Binns' essay."</p>
<p>Marveling at Hermione's ability to come up with believable lies, Harry looked around and spotted a man with wooden limbs—all but his right arm—in the corner. While his body was that of a man who looked like he'd been through war, his face was jolly and round. He looked to be the only man in this place who wasn't likely to steal all their galleons.</p>
<p>Harry motioned to his friends, and they followed him over to Kettleburn.</p>
<p>"Hi," Hermione said brightly, once they were in front of him. Kettleburn swept his gaze over the three of them, focusing in on Harry's scar.</p>
<p>"I know who you are," he said, and Harry wished he had patted his hair down more. "Sit down, sit down," he gestured, before turning to the barkeep. "Aberforth, get us three butterbeers, will you?"</p>
<p>Harry, Hermione and Neville took their seats in the three rickety chairs at Kettleburn's table, and he turned his eyes back on Harry. "Biggest regret of my career is not teaching you," he said, pointing a wooden finger at Harry, who felt altogether uncomfortable. "Mind you I'm glad I stopped when I did and have still got this arm at least"—he pointed to his right arm—"but imagine that: There's a basilisk in my school the entire time I'm teaching and it's a second year who figures it out."</p>
<p><em>Oh</em>. That Harry had not been expecting.</p>
<p>"Well, it was really Hermione who figured it out," he told Kettleburn, gesturing to Hermione. "I just followed her directions."</p>
<p>"He's just being modest," she added quickly, blushing a bit. "He's the one who figured out where it was and how to get to it."</p>
<p>"Two prodigies then," Kettleburn declared, grinning, as the barkeep brought over three very dusty bottles of butterbeer. Neville eyed them warily, but Harry sipped his. It was a bit warm, but it was good.</p>
<p>"Hagrid's told me all about you, you know," Kettleburn added, looking at Harry once again. "About what a natural gift for the class that you've got."</p>
<p>Harry blinked in surprise. He assumed Hagrid likely thought that since Harry was one of the few students who didn't run in terror from the monsters Hagrid tended to prefer. Kettleburn must have read Harry's disbelief on his face because he continued, "A boy who befriends centaurs, house elves and werewolves, who gets a hippogriff to let it ride him on the first try, who earns the respect of an acromantula—"</p>
<p>"Aragog tried to kill me!"</p>
<p>"Yes, but he told you what you wanted to know first, didn't he?" Kettleburn asked, a mixture of impatience and admiration in his tone. "That's as much respect as an acromantula will give a stranger. It's clear you have a deep respect for and understanding of magical creatures and beings, boy. There aren't many wizards who possess that particular gift. Most see non-wand carriers as beneath them."</p>
<p>Harry could feel himself blushing at the praise; Hermione was beaming at him, while Neville looked impressed.</p>
<p>"Well, what brings you to the Hog's Head? We don't usually see students in here," Kettleburn asked.</p>
<p>"Well, we were hoping you could tell us a bit about the merpeople in the lake at Hogwarts," Hermione said, taking the lead.</p>
<p>Kettleburn eyed Harry carefully before grinning. "So Dumbledore roped them into this Triwizard business, did he?" he asked. "What have you got to do?"</p>
<p>Harry didn't think there was any point in lying—Kettleburn had clearly figured out the truth—so he told him about the treasure.</p>
<p>"If that's all it is, they won't be bothering you," Kettleburn said, taking a sip of his mead. "Haven't you all heard the stories? Jack Wickleby, the Pirate Wizard?"</p>
<p>"Er, yes," Hermione said. "But aren't those just children's stories?"</p>
<p>Kettleburn let out a bellowing laugh that caused Hermione and Neville to jump a bit.</p>
<p>"Jack Wickleby is no more fictional than the tales of Beedle the Bard," he said. "He lived in Poseidon's Cove a thousand years or so ago. There's plenty of documentation of<em> that</em>."</p>
<p>He eyed the trio, who had a mixture of hope and trepidation in their eyes.</p>
<p>"Dumbledore's got a peculiar sense about things," he explained. "He'd find it thematically fitting to base a dangerous event on something out of a children's story."</p>
<p>Harry thought about the man he knew—who'd used the Mirror of Erised to hide the philosopher's stone so that only someone who wanted to find it and not use it could retrieve it—and thought perhaps that Kettleburn had a point. He glanced at Hermione and from the calm, cheerful look on her face, saw that she had reached the same conclusion.</p>
<p>Neville was glancing between the two of them, saw that Harry and Hermione believed Kettleburn, and then he grinned, his entire face changing, glowing with pride—he'd been the one to originally propose the idea after all.</p>
<p>But Harry decided to push his luck a bit further.</p>
<p>"Where can I find the merpeople?" he asked. "Once I get down there?"</p>
<p>Kettleburn eyed him contemplatively, sizing him up. Harry stared right back, trying very much to look like the sort of person Kettleburn would want to help. But apparently, Hagrid's praise of Harry's exploits had left an impression.</p>
<p>"Have any of you got some parchment?" Kettleburn asked. "Let me draw you a map."</p>
<hr/>
<p>"Good thing you're a prodigy, huh Harry?" Neville asked, grinning good naturedly, as they stepped out of the dark pub, a newly drawn map of the black lake in Harry's pocket. Harry blinked at the sudden brightness. "I'm pretty sure Kettleburn would've offered to go down there himself for you if you asked."</p>
<p>"That would rather defeat the point of the worthy person being the one to retrieve it though, wouldn't it?" Hermione commented, before smiling at Neville. "What a relief you were right about that one, Neville."</p>
<p>Neville grinned at her. "Honeydukes?" he offered. Harry was absolutely ready to do something fun, but Hermione shook her head.</p>
<p>"I have to pick some things up from Gladrags," she said. "Why don't you two go ahead, and we can meet up at the Three Broomsticks? Get some proper butterbeer."</p>
<p>And so she headed north, while Harry and Neville headed in the other direction. They were just passing by Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop when Harry spotted Cho Chang and Cedric Diggory, hand in hand, turning off High Street and into a storefront Harry had never been before: Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop.</p>
<p>"What's that?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Madam Puddifoot's?" Neville asked, wrinkling his nose. "Some frilly tea shop the girls seem to like. It's all doilies and bows. We had to pop in there once because Seamus really needed to use the loo. It was awful."</p>
<p>Harry frowned. "I wouldn't think that's Cho's sort of place," he said, as he and Neville continued walking down High Street.</p>
<p>"Well, you don't really know her, do you?"</p>
<p>Harry looked up at Neville, surprised, but Neville was looking back at Harry like he had just said the most obvious thing in the world.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"Well, how many conversations have you actually had with her?" Neville asked diplomatically. "That were more than just, 'Nice quidditch match'?"</p>
<p>Well, none, Harry thought irritably, but what did Neville know about it?</p>
<p>Harry looked at his friend—Neville was grinning knowingly—and Harry realized Neville had interpreted Harry's silence correctly.</p>
<p>"She might very well be fanciable," Neville said, "but the way I see it, you can't actually know that unless you really talk to her. She's pretty, but for all we know, she could be awful or just… perfectly fine, but all wrong for you."</p>
<p>"Or she could be great," Harry countered.</p>
<p>"She could be," Neville agreed, as they passed Zonko's. He was silent for a moment, and Harry could tell he was weighing something, something that must be fairly huge.</p>
<p>Finally, Neville spoke. "Did you know I used to have the hugest crush on Hermione?"</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>Harry's head snapped up and he turned to look at Neville, who did not look the least bit embarrassed to be telling Harry something so personal, and merely shrugged his shoulders.</p>
<p>"I fancied her ever since the first day on the Hogwarts Express," he continued. "She was the only person who stopped to help me look for Trevor"—Harry felt a flash of guilt remembering how he and Ron hadn't been particularly concerned when Neville asked them about Trevor—"and she didn't just help look for him; she totally took over the search."</p>
<p>That sounded exactly like Hermione.</p>
<p>"And then she was always helping me in classes, and there was that time she saved Trevor from being poisoned," Neville continued, "so I sort of couldn't help but fancy her."</p>
<p>Harry considered that. Hermione <em>had</em> always been something of a knight in shining armor for Neville. He couldn't help but grin inwardly, picturing Hermione dressed up like Sir Cadogan, her bushy hair sticking out from under her helmet.</p>
<p>"Is that why you asked her to the Yule Ball?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Nah," Neville said. "By then I had pretty much realized we should just be friends."</p>
<p>"So what happened?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Neville shrugged. "This year did," he said. "I always knew Hermione obviously—in classes and chatting over meals—but I never spent as much time with her as I have the past couple of months. I had admired her so much that I sort of built her up as this totally different person in my head. Don't get me wrong, she's great—and a brilliant friend—but now that I actually know her… well, we wouldn't exactly suit, would we?"</p>
<p>Harry pondered that, frowning. He was the furthest thing there was from a relationship expert, but trying to picture Neville and Hermione together unsettled him a bit. No, they wouldn't suit.</p>
<p>"The way I see it, the best thing I could've done was actually talk to her," Neville said. "Because now I've got a great friend and I won't waste any more years fancying a girl I wouldn't even really want to date anyway."</p>
<p>They'd reached Honeydukes, and Neville opened the door. As they slipped inside, Harry considered Neville's words. Talk to Cho. He supposed it wasn't a particularly novel concept.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They entered the Three Brooksticks a half hour later—it seemed more crowded than usual, a cacophony of laughter, shrieking and competing conversations—searching out Hermione. They found her sitting in the corner with Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, speaking furiously. Her demeanor was hostile, her face stormy. Something was wrong.</p>
<p>Harry and Neville hurried over.</p>
<p>"What happened?" Harry asked, watching them all carefully.</p>
<p>"That awful woman!" Hermione fumed.</p>
<p>"She's talking about that Skeeter cow," Angelina clarified for them.</p>
<p>"She was in here trying to get dirt on you," Hermione said heatedly. "Asking Susan and Hannah all sorts of questions about you. And after everything she wrote about you and Professor Lupin—"</p>
<p>"We thought we were going to have to pull Hermione off her," Angelina said, looking admiringly at her. "She ripped right into her though. It was brilliant."</p>
<p>"It was what she deserved!" Hermione seethed. "She was clearly trying to get Hannah and Susan to say something terrible about you. They didn't, of course, but that's not the point."</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes were narrowed, dark and dangerous, and her mouth was twisted into an angry grimace. Even her hair seemed a little more frazzled than usual. Harry was sorry she was so upset, but he also couldn't help but be grateful for Hermione's defense of him.</p>
<p>Angelina and Alicia offered to go get a round of butterbeers for them all, and Harry and Neville slid into their seats.</p>
<p>"Thanks," Harry said, and Hermione gave him a small smile, seeming to relax a bit. She'd stopped glowering at any rate. She picked up one of two bags she had gotten from Gladrags and handed it to him.</p>
<p>"Here," she said.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Harry asked, peering inside.</p>
<p>"Swimming trunks," Hermione said. "They should be the right size."</p>
<p>Harry looked at her, bewildered, as he pulled blue swimming trunks out of the bag.</p>
<p>"Well, you can't exactly go swimming in the lake in front of everyone in your pants the way you did the prefects' bathroom," Hermione explained, a hint of exasperation in her tone, though she was blushing.</p>
<p>Harry could feel his face growing hotter at his best friend mentioning his unmentionables. He snuck a glance at Neville whom he could see was trying very hard not to laugh at the pair of them, and looked away quickly. Seeing Angelina and Alicia making their way back, Harry stuffed the trunks in the bag, hoping to avoid any comments from them.</p>
<p>"Thanks," Neville said, as the girls put the drinks down. Harry nodded his agreement and took a particularly large sip.</p>
<p>"You don't think Rita Skeeter will try to get payback for this, do you?" Alicia asked, as she sat back down, and Neville looked apprehensive at the thought.</p>
<p>But Hermione's expression was one of steel. "Let her try," she said icily.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As the days passed, Harry and Neville looked out for any sign that Rita Skeeter would retaliate against Hermione, but each morning the <em>Daily Prophet</em> was dropped off without any hint of Hermione—or Harry.</p>
<p>And by early February, Harry had begun to relax a bit about it. In addition to the banishing charm, he, Hermione and Neville spent time learning the impediment jinx—Hermione and Neville taking turns being his opponent—so Harry had another spell in his arsenal in case something went wrong and the merpeople tried something. He'd also spent a good deal of time studying—and memorizing—Kettleburn's map.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, taking his guard down about Rita and feeling ready for the second task left him open to worrying about other things—namely, whomever put his name in the goblet of fire. Did they just want him to participate in the tournament, hoping it would kill him? Or did they have something extra planned, <em>knowing</em> it would kill him? And was it Voldemort himself who had ordered it done, or some Death Eater's idea of a funny joke, like the muggle baiting at the World Cup had been?</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" Hermione asked on one particularly sunny Saturday as they sat in the common room. Hermione were revising for Charms, but Harry didn't have anything to take his mind off of Voldemort.</p>
<p>Not wanting to scare her—they hadn't really talked about why he was in the tournament to begin with much lately—Harry said, "Nothing."</p>
<p>Hermione gave him an unconvinced look, making it clear she didn't believe him. "It's the task, isn't it?" she asked.</p>
<p>That wasn't technically a lie, so Harry nodded.</p>
<p>"You're as ready as you can be for it, Harry," she said, glancing down at her arm. "Well, except for this." She pulled off her watch and handed it to him.</p>
<p>"I've got a watch," he said.</p>
<p>"Mine's waterproof," she explained, as he put it in his pocket. Realizing that she needed something to tell time, Harry took off his watch and handed it to her.</p>
<p>"Thanks," she said, smiling. "We have a good plan for the task. And if…"</p>
<p>She trailed off, her face uncertain, and Harry realized she had been worrying about Voldemort, too.</p>
<p>"And if whomever put my name in the cup tries something, you mean?" he asked.</p>
<p>Hermione looked up, twisting her hands together. He saw a flicker of fear in her eyes, but then she said in as confident a voice as she could muster, "Dumbledore will be looking out for anything amiss."</p>
<p>That was true, and the thought comforted Harry a bit.</p>
<p>"And besides," Hermione said softly, "you're a great wizard, remember?"</p>
<p>She'd always had unwavering faith in him, and while Harry wasn't always sure he deserved it, that thought comforted him even more.</p>
<p>Hermione smiled nervously. "Right, what I think you've got to do now is try to take your mind off things. Play some exploding snap or"—she glanced outside at the clear blue sky—"or go fly a broom."</p>
<p>That didn't sound like a bad idea to Harry at all. It had been months—since the first task to be precise—since Harry had been flying. He looked around the room. Fred and George were listlessly tossing a ball they'd conjured back and forth, and Katie Bell was sitting with some other fifth years, inspecting her hair for split ends.</p>
<p>They were all bored, it seemed.</p>
<p>He looked back at Hermione and smiled. "You are <em>brilliant</em>!" he said, and she smiled back at him, waving him on.</p>
<p>He rose and walked purposefully to Fred and George. They sat up, looking at him expectantly.</p>
<p>"Want to play some quidditch?" Harry asked. They looked at him like he was mental.</p>
<p>"Have you forgotten the season was canceled?" Fred asked.</p>
<p>"When's that ever stopped the two of you?" Harry retorted. Fred and George looked at each other.</p>
<p>"He makes a good point, brother," Fred said. "We can round up the girls, play some three on three."</p>
<p>"Break into storage and steal out the balls," George said.</p>
<p>"That's good," Harry nodded. "But I was thinking we should have a proper game. Can you two round up the team and find us a decent keeper? Then meet me at the pitch in a half hour?"</p>
<p>"What are you going to do?"</p>
<p>Harry grinned. "Find us an opponent."</p>
<p>It was a ludicrous plan—but he didn't want to just fly a broom. He'd been entered into this tournament against his will and it had taken over his life. Quidditch was one of his favorite things about Hogwarts, and he was taking it back.</p>
<p>He ran up to his room and checked the Marauders Map. Roger Davies was snogging some sixth-year Hufflepuff, Carina McDonald, in Flitwick's classroom—an activity he didn't care to interrupt again if he didn't have to—but Cedric Diggory was in the library with his friends.</p>
<p>Harry headed to the library.</p>
<p>Cedric's friends saw him before Cedric did, and he could hear them whispering about him, sniggering. Cedric looked up.</p>
<p>"Hey, Harry," he said, sending a warning look to his friends. "What's up?"</p>
<p>"Do the Hufflepuffs want to play quidditch?"</p>
<p>Cedric blinked in surprise. "What?"</p>
<p>"The Gryffindors are bored," Harry said. "We—"</p>
<p>"Lying your way into the tournament isn't as fun as you'd thought it would be?" one of Cedric's friends asked nastily. Harry felt his anger rising, but did his best to ignore it.</p>
<p>"Look," he said, focusing only on Cedric and not his git of a friend, "we want to play, and it's either you or the Ravenclaws, and I don't exactly fancy going to Flitwick's classroom and breaking up Davies snogging Carina McDonald—"</p>
<p>"What?" Cedric's nasty friend exclaimed, his face going red. He packed up his things hastily, running out of the library. His friends watched him go, a mixture of concern and exasperation.</p>
<p>"So do you want to play?" Harry asked. "It's perfect quidditch weather outside, and it's got to be more fun than studying for all of these tasks."</p>
<p>Cedric considered him for a moment, before looking down at his books. He looked up again, and Harry could see the decision in his eyes. "Yeah, all right," he said. "We'll be there."</p>
<p>Harry grinned.</p>
<p>By the time he made it down to the Gryffindor changing rooms, the rest of the team was already there, along with Alan Peakes, a seventh year who never got a chance to play on account of Wood being so good, but whom Harry knew to be a decent flyer.</p>
<p>Fred and George had already stolen the balls out of storage, along with the megaphone Lee Jordan usually used to announce the games. Harry looked at them quizzically.</p>
<p>"You didn't think this wouldn't attract a crowd, did you?" Fred asked.</p>
<p>And sure enough, by the time the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff teams walked out of the changing rooms, the stands were filled with Hufflepuff, Gryffindor and even Ravenclaw students. Harry looked up into the stands and saw Neville and Hermione. The rest of his year was sitting a little ways down—even Ron—and on the other side of the Creevey brothers was Ginny, sitting with Luna, gesturing excitedly at the pitch.</p>
<p>Roger Davies, with a fresh black eye, was standing with Cedric Diggory and the Hufflepuff team.</p>
<p>"He's agreed to referee," Cedric informed them.</p>
<p>Just as they were about to kick off, Harry caught sight of a tall figure making his way toward Neville and Hermione: Viktor Krum. Cedric clearly saw him, too. Harry exchanged glances with the Hufflepuff seeker and knew they were thinking the same thing: Neither of them fancied playing seeker in front of one of the world's best.</p>
<p>But as Harry kicked off and felt the wind whipping through his hair, he let all of his worries go: No matter what else was happening in his life, flying always made sense to him. Even Voldemort couldn't touch him up here.</p>
<p>"And, they're off," yelled Lee Jordan excitedly, "with Spinnet taking possession of the quaffle—she passes to Johnson who passes to Bell—these chasers have clearly been practicing in their off-time—and Bell is speeding toward the goal…"</p>
<p>Harry had risen well above the action, all the better to see the snitch and avoid bludgers; Diggory did the same. Harry circled around looking for that familiar glint. A part of him wanted to try out the Wronski Feint—Wood had tried to explain it to him so many times, but now that he'd seen it done professionally at the Quidditch World Cup, Harry thought he could manage it properly—but he didn't fancy trying it out in front of Viktor Krum, nor did he think it was right to purposefully send Cedric Diggory crashing into the ground in what was supposed to be a friendly game.</p>
<p>"Bell passes to Johnson, with only Rickett, the Hufflepuff beater, in her way. He aims—"</p>
<p>But Rickett didn't aim the bludger at Angelina. Instead, he sent it directly at Harry, who flipped over on his broom, narrowly avoiding the hit, George streaking by him to take control of the bludger.</p>
<p>"And JOHNSON SCORES," Lee screamed, "because the Hufflepuff beater thought it was a smarter idea to send the bludger at the Gryffindor seeker—with the snitch nowhere near him, I might add—instead of the Gryffindor chaser who was about to score. I guess <em>someone</em> is still a little salty about the Triwizard Tournament."</p>
<p>Harry's face burned a little, and he snuck a glance at Cedric, who had flown down to his two beaters.</p>
<p>"Preece in possession of the quaffle, heading down the pitch—and he gets nailed by Weasley—one of them, can't quite tell which one at the moment, but whichever Weasley he is, he's doing what a beater is <em>supposed</em> to do."</p>
<p>Diggory finished talking to his beaters, as Katie took possession of the quaffle again. Diggory flew back up to Harry's height and nodded at him. Harry nodded back.</p>
<p>There were no more bludgers sent Harry's way, and he and Cedric circled around, looking for one hint of the snitch, while the chasers flitted back and forth.</p>
<p>The stands had gotten more full—now, all of Ravenclaw house was in attendance, as well as some Slytherins, still sporting their Potter Stinks badges. Harry noticed the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students had made their way over as well.</p>
<p>"Johnson goes for the goal," Lee Jordan said excitedly, "but is thrown off course by Rickett, losing the quaffle. Oh, but Spinnet manages to recover the quaffle and SHE SCORES!"</p>
<p>Just as Alicia scored yet another goal—bringing the score to 50-40 in Gryffindor's favor, Harry saw two things: One was Professor McGonagall hurrying toward the pitch, a sight that made his stomach drop; the other was the snitch, hovering about 20 feet off the ground.</p>
<p>He dove, feeling the biting wind across his face; Diggory was right behind him. Rickett aimed another bludger at Harry, which was expertly deflected by Fred. 60 feet… fifty feet… forty feet… Harry's mind went blank as he focused in on the snitch, mentally willing himself to go faster.</p>
<p>Harry could feel Diggory on his heels, but his broom was no match for Harry's Firebolt.</p>
<p>"Will you look at that Firebolt go!" Lee Jordan was screaming. "You can really see that precision balance in a long sprint like this—"</p>
<p>Harry felt his hand close around the snitch—"GRYFFINDOR WINS!"—and pulled up to avoid crashing into the ground, managing to slow to a stop and tumble off in as graceful a manner as was probably possible.</p>
<p>"POTTER CATCHES THE SNITCH AND GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee Jordan yelled.</p>
<p>Harry looked up, beaming, but a shadow fell over him. It was Professor McGonagall.</p>
<p>"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, her lips a thin line. Harry stood up gingerly.</p>
<p>"I caught the snitch," he said, holding it out to her.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall looked very much like she wanted to roll her eyes. "Yes, I'm aware of that Potter," she retorted. "I was speaking more generally about the game. I seem to recall quidditch being canceled this year."</p>
<p>Harry could feel Cedric Diggory standing beside him.</p>
<p>"Well, you see, Professor," Harry said, "I believe what Professor Dumbledore said was that the staff wouldn't have time to put together a quidditch season on account of all the work you had to do with the tournament. So, you see, we just decided to… help you out a bit."</p>
<p>McGonagall stared at Harry and Cedric. "And the two of you didn't think you had enough going on with the second task?" she asked. "That's not an important enough matter worthy of your time?"</p>
<p>Cedric looked contrite, but something in Harry snapped. He had done this precisely so he didn't have to think about the tournament for once, and he'd just had a great afternoon doing something he actually loved. He wasn't about to apologize for that.</p>
<p>"I never wanted to <em>do </em>the stupid tournament," he retorted. "You <em>know</em> that, Professor. But I've done it anyway, haven't I? But I don't see why I should have to give up quidditch, too."</p>
<p>He looked up at her defiantly, and he could swear her lips twitched. Cedric was watching him appraisingly.</p>
<p>"Everything all right," Professor?" Fred asked. He and George had flown down, joining them.</p>
<p>"I suppose liberating the balls and the megaphone from Madam Hooch was your doing?" she said to them.</p>
<p>Fred looked at her, shocked, his hand raised to his heart as if she had wounded him.</p>
<p>George leaned in closer to her, cupping his hand over his mouth and mock whispered, "I think that was the Hufflepuffs. They've always been a dodgy sort to me."</p>
<p>Harry grinned and Cedric looked very much like he was trying not to laugh.</p>
<p>"Honestly, professor, we were just trying to have a bit of fun," Cedric said, and then he gestured to the crowd, particularly the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang students. "Besides, isn't this part of what the tournament's for? Showing the other schools what Hogwarts is all about?"</p>
<p>McGonagall was silent for a moment, looking around the pitch. "50 points each for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor for sportsmanlike behavior," she finally said. And then, noticing their referee, she added, "And 10 for Ravenclaw too, I suppose."</p>
<p>The four boys grinned at her.</p>
<p>"Make sure you put everything away properly," she said, with a severe look at Fred and George.</p>
<p>Before she turned away, she gave all of them an appraising look. "And next time you decide to play a rogue game of quidditch, do remember to invite me."</p>
<p>"Yes, ma'am," Fred grinned at her, as he and George gave her mock salutes. They turned to the crowd and raised their arms in victory. Harry grinned, but felt Cedric's eyes on him.</p>
<p>"What?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"You really didn't put your name in the goblet of fire, did you?" he asked.</p>
<p>"No, I didn't," Harry replied emphatically, and for some reason, it was important for Cedric to believe him.</p>
<p>Cedric was silent a moment, before nodding. "Good game, Harry," he said, holding out his hand. Harry shook it.</p>
<p>"Good game."</p>
<p>Cedric walked off toward the changing rooms, but Harry found himself at the bottom of a pile on of the Gryffindor team. It was a frenzy of people clapping him on the back, shouting, "We won! We won!" and by the time Harry finally surfaced from the mob, Hermione and Neville were headed his way.</p>
<p>"You did great, Harry!" Neville enthused.</p>
<p>"Viktor said you were fantastic," Hermione agreed, and Harry couldn't help but flush a little at praise like that from a professional.</p>
<p>"I can't believe he wanted to watch," Harry replied.</p>
<p>"Well, you know, he really enjoyed hanging out with us all at the ball," Hermione said, "and I think he just likes being part of a group."</p>
<p>Neville nodded. "I got the impression it's been a long time since he's gotten to just watch a game of quidditch," he added.</p>
<p>"Harry!" Katie called. "Quit dawdling and go get changed!"</p>
<p>Harry turned back to his friends—Neville was flicking a beetle off Hermione's shoulder—and told them he'd be out in a few. No doubt Fred and George were already planning a celebration in the common room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While Harry, Hermione and Neville were all in good spirits the day of the quidditch match, Hermione soon felt her jitters return. The second task was less than a week away, and while Harry was as prepared as he could be for it, she couldn't help being wary—after all, <em>someone</em> had put Harry's name in the goblet of fire, and whomever they were could have done anything to make the task even more dangerous for him.</p>
<p>She'd gone over the plan again and again, trying to find the contingencies, the loopholes, the risks. She'd become obsessed with it, constantly lost in her thoughts, which was probably why she ran smack into Cho Chang one night after dinner.</p>
<p>"Oh!" Hermione said, as Neville steadied her. "I'm so sorry!"</p>
<p>Cho staggered back a little, confused, then looked up at her.</p>
<p>"Don't worry about it," Cho said, smiling sweetly at her. She turned to Harry. "Hi, Harry. Great match the other day."</p>
<p>"Oh, er, thanks," Harry said.</p>
<p>"Next time you should ask us to play though," Cho continued. "It's been ages since I've been on a broom."</p>
<p>"I know," Harry commiserated.</p>
<p>The next thing Hermione knew, Neville had grabbed her elbow. "Hermione and I have to run to the library to get that book before it closes, but we'll see you in the common room, Harry," he called, as he pulled her away. Harry barely had a chance to say a word back before Neville and Hermione were swept in the crowd heading toward the stairs.</p>
<p>"What book?" Hermione asked, a bit put out.</p>
<p>"There's no book," Neville told her once they were safely away. "But Harry's never actually had a chance to talk to Cho and I really think he's going to do it this time."</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. She knew Harry had had a crush on Cho for a while, but as far as she knew, Cho and Cedric had started dating after they'd attended the Yule Ball together.</p>
<p>"Isn't Cho dating Cedric?"</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"Then why are you encouraging Harry's crush on her?" Hermione asked, a bit exasperated.</p>
<p>"I'm not," Neville replied. "If he actually talks to her, maybe he'll realize she's better off with a bloke like Diggory. She's a sweet girl, but she's a little...too nice?" Neville offered as they climbed the stairs.</p>
<p>"Too nice?" Hermione asked skeptically.</p>
<p>"I always see her in the courtyard doing those <em>Witch Weekly</em> quizzes with her friends—you know, the 'What's your dream date?' quizzes? And I've sat next to them a few times at the Three Broomsticks—they remind me of Parvati and Lavender a bit, going on about unicorns and dress robes and just…normal things. The worst thing that's ever happened to her is her favorite quidditch team lost," Neville said.</p>
<p>"What's wrong with Harry dating a normal girl?" she asked, frowning. If anyone deserved a little bit of happiness, it was Harry after all the loss he'd suffered.</p>
<p>"Well, he's not normal, is he?" Neville asked. "The things he has to deal with—you know better than anybody. It's not exactly easy figuring him out all the time, is it? Cho's nice, but she's fairly…uncomplicated? And Harry is complicated. I just don't think someone like that would get someone like Harry. So she's better off with Diggory who is also sweet and nice and not really complicated."</p>
<p>Hermione considered what he'd said as they climbed through the portrait hole. She'd known Harry had a crush on Cho, but she'd never known enough about the Ravenclaw to know if they would suit—but Neville, apparently, knew plenty about her and was certain they wouldn't. Hermione couldn't help hoping Neville was right and that Harry would realize it—better that than he pine after a girl with a steady boyfriend.</p>
<p>By the time Harry entered the common room 20 minutes later, Hermione and Neville were hard at work on their Transfiguration homework. He sat down at their table silently, his brow furrowed. He was clearly wrestling with something. Neville and Hermione exchanged glances.</p>
<p>"How'd it go?" Neville asked carefully.</p>
<p>"What?" Harry asked, looking around as if he didn't realize where he was. "Oh. Hi. It was fine."</p>
<p>He didn't offer any more, and Hermione looked at Neville again. He shrugged. Hermione was about to press for better answers, when Parvati and Lavender approached their table. They both looked nervous; Parvati was smiling a bit too brightly, and Lavender was clutching one of her <em>Witch Weekly</em> magazines.</p>
<p>"Hermione?" Parvati asked. The three looked up at them.</p>
<p>"What's up?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"We want you to know that we don't believe a word of it," Parvati swore. Hermione didn't like the sound of <em>that.</em></p>
<p>"Honestly, if you were using love potions on Harry the two of you would be doing something more interesting than homework right now," Lavender interjected, giggling a little.</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>Parvati threw her an exasperated look, before turning back to Hermione. "We thought we should tell you right away," Parvati continued. "Lavender's just got the latest issue of <em>Witch Weekly</em> and there's an article about you."</p>
<p>Lavender held out the magazine. Hermione took it cautiously. She scanned the headlines and instantly knew what they were talking about. In large letters on the front cover, right under a headline about Celestina Warbeck's favorite date activities and above one that read "50 ways to spruce up your old dress robes" was "Harry Potter's Secret Heartache!"</p>
<p>"What is it?" Harry asked her warily, but Hermione didn't respond, too intent on finding the article. She flipped to the correct page, and began reading—sure enough, Rita Skeeter had written an article about her.</p>
<p>"Apparently," Hermione bit out, "I'm a plain but ambitious girl who's developed a taste for famous wizards."</p>
<p>"What?" Harry asked, shifting his chair so he could read over her shoulder. Neville did the same on her other side.</p>
<p>
  <em>A boy like no other, perhaps—yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, muggleborn Hermione Granger. Little did he know that he would shortly be suffering yet another emotional blow in a life already littered with personal loss.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have a taste for famous wizards that Harry alone cannot satisfy. Since the arrival at Hogwarts of Viktor Krum, Bulgaria Seeker and hero of the last World Quidditch Cup, Miss Granger has been toying with both boys' affections. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Despite her long-standing relationship with the Boy Who Lived, Miss Granger attended the Yule Ball—a highly anticipated Triwizard Tournament event—with none other than Mr. Krum. "Everyone thought it was right awful of her," says fourth-year Daphne Greengrass. "Ron Weasley—whom everyone knows has been Potter's best mate for years—told her so himself at the ball, and the next thing you know, he'd been hit by the bat-bogey hex."</em>
</p>
<p>"That wasn't even you!" Harry cried. "That was Ginny!"</p>
<p>
  <em>But Miss Granger's ploy for attention seems to have worked because she was seen later that night, having ditched her date, canoodling with Harry Potter in a secluded garden. The enamored boy, clearly trying to win back her affections, repeatedly told her, "He's a prat."</em>
</p>
<p>Hermione looked up at Harry, confused. "How did she—"</p>
<p>But Harry cut her off with a warning glance and a jut of his head toward Parvati and Lavender, who were very interested in what Hermione had to say.</p>
<p>
  <em>For a tournament that's supposed to be about international magical cooperation, the duplicitous Miss Granger certainly seems to be sowing as much distrust and enmity between the champions as she can.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Krum, who is openly smitten with the devious Miss Granger, is willing to go so far as to give up his illustrious quidditch career, all at Miss Granger's insistence, who'd prefer he go into banking. "It's a much more intellectually stimulating career," she told him on a recent outing at Hogwarts. "And at least you wouldn't have to worry about any more bludgers."</em>
</p>
<p>Who could have told her that? Hermione hadn't seen Rita Skeeter anywhere near the pitch when she said it.</p>
<p>
  <em>However, it might not be Miss Granger's doubtful natural charms which have captured these unfortunate boys' interest.</em>
</p>
<p>"Love potions?" Hermione exclaimed, reading all about how Pansy Parkinson thought she was dosing both boys. "What rubbish!"</p>
<p>She could feel Lavender and Parvati's eyes on her, knew they—and Harry and Neville—were waiting for her reaction. She was certainly annoyed—but less about being maligned and more about the half truths littered throughout the story. How had Rita heard her and Harry in the grotto or Viktor at the quidditch match?</p>
<p>"Well, if that's the best Rita can do, she's losing her touch," Hermione said airily.</p>
<p>Parvati and Lavender narrowed their eyes at her. "So you're not mad?" Lavender asked, studying her.</p>
<p>"Not at all," Hermione said. "It's obviously a bunch of lies."</p>
<p>Lavender looked relieved. "Oh good," she said. "We weren't sure how you'd take it and we wanted you to be prepared."</p>
<p>"I appreciate that," Hermione told her, and she genuinely meant it. She, Parvati and Lavender might not always get along—and they likely would've been happy to be on the receiving end of some gossip—but she did believe they didn't want to see her upset.</p>
<p>"Love potions, honestly," Parvati said, rolling her eyes. "You should watch out tomorrow though—you know the Slytherins will have a ball with this."</p>
<p>"I know," Hermione sighed, as her dorm mates said goodbye and headed up to the dormitory. As soon as they were out of earshot, she turned to Harry and Neville. Neville was looking at her, concerned, while Harry's face had grown dark with anger now that they were done reading.</p>
<p>"How did she overhear us in the grotto? And the quidditch match?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"What does it matter?" Harry spat. "She's gone too far going after you."</p>
<p>"Honestly, Harry, I don't care what she writes about me," Hermione insisted. "But I <em>do </em>want to know how she's doing this so we can stop her next time. I didn't see her anywhere in those stands."</p>
<p>Harry was still glowering, but he looked like he was attempting to reign it in.</p>
<p>"You really said that about banking?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"He asked for Bill's contact information," Hermione explained. "At the quidditch match. He said he didn't want to play quidditch forever, but wanted a career that had some sort of excitement to it, and he wanted to talk to Bill and get some more information about curse-breaking. I did tell him that I think it's a more intellectually stimulating career—because it <em>is</em>—but only after he mentioned his interest. And the bludger thing was just a joke."</p>
<p>"Well, weren't there loads of people around at the match?" Harry asked. "Could someone else have overheard and told her?"</p>
<p>Neville shook his head. "Viktor asked about Bill after you'd already won the match," he said. "Everyone was already leaving—I don't think he would've asked unless we were alone. That's not the sort of thing he'd want getting back to his team until he was ready."</p>
<p>"And no one else was around at the grotto," Hermione continued. "At least not on our side of the fountain."</p>
<p>Harry nodded. "And the only people on the other side were Roger Davies and Fleur Delacour—and they were otherwise occupied."</p>
<p>"You're sure there was no one else?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Just that beetle I almost murdered," Harry answered. "Could she be using an invisibility cloak?"</p>
<p>"Possibly," Hermione replied.</p>
<p>"Though it would be risky," Neville added. "Moody was chaperoning and he's got a magical eye."</p>
<p>"So what?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Well, they can see through invisibility cloaks," Neville said, clearly surprised that this wasn't common knowledge.</p>
<p>"Really?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>Neville nodded. "Back during the war, loads of aurors used them," he said. "They'd pop their regular eye in a preservation potion before they went to work. Gran says my mum used to use one."</p>
<p>Ignoring the gross visual that image conjured, Hermione focused on Rita Skeeter—she <em>would</em> find out how that woman was getting her information.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Parvati was right about the Slytherins—and some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs, too. Within a matter of days, everyone had read the article and Hermione could hear incessant whispering about her in the corridors.</p>
<p>She was a constant source of gossip, much to her chagrin. It hadn't been the first time she was the center of attention—she'd gotten plenty of that when Rita had called her Harry's "stunningly pretty girlfriend"—but this time was different. This time, they were more focused on taunting her than Harry.</p>
<p>Viktor's fan club had taken to following her around, calling her all sorts of gendered insults in the corridors. Hermione merely kept her head high, taking the high road, even if she <em>did</em> want to show them exactly how well an uppity, know-it-all slag could hex the lot of them.</p>
<p>Even the blokes had something to say—though most of them seemed more angry that she was trying to force their favorite quidditch star into retirement.</p>
<p>Harry was getting mutinous. After the initial shock at the way Rita had warped the truth wore off, he'd been angry, but as the taunts rolled in, he'd gotten increasingly quiet in a way that usually meant he was about to explode. She was doing her best to keep him calm, repeating their old refrain—ignore, ignore, ignore. But even she was having trouble following it—what rubbish advice. She was beginning to feel a bit bad for giving him such useless counsel. How did Harry handle this all the time?</p>
<p>She had other supporters, too. Fred and George kept asking her to make them love potions so they could dose Professor McGonagall—in increasingly desperate tones each time, ratcheting it up for dramatic effect, so everyone could see how ridiculous they found the idea. And Ginny had hexed no less than three other students—a habit she probably should get out of if she didn't want to land in detention every day of the week.</p>
<p>Hermione had even come across Angelina threatening some fifth-year Slytherin in the library. She'd gone there intending to continue her research into the Triwizard Tournament, but even her usual refuge had been infiltrated by the gossip.</p>
<p>At breakfast today, Luna had come up to her and informed Hermione that her father always said Rita Skeeter was a shill for the Rotfgang conspiracy. Hermione wasn't sure exactly what that was—was certain she probably didn't want to know—but she knew Luna was trying to be supportive. They made plans to meet at Gladrags next Hogsmeade weekend—Luna wanted to buy Dobby some socks before she met him.</p>
<p>Hermione walked down to the dungeons for Potions, her head held high, flanked by Neville and Harry, who was shooting anyone who looked at her funny a dangerous look.</p>
<p>"Ignore them," she whispered, giving him a sidelong glance and a ghost of a smile, forcing herself to believe the words were helpful. But he didn't smile back.</p>
<p>"It's my fault," he told her.</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him incredulously. "I don't recall you writing any rubbish articles about me, did you?" she asked.</p>
<p>"She only wrote about you because of me," Harry insisted.</p>
<p>"No, she wrote about me because I called her horrible," Hermione pointed out.</p>
<p>"Because you were defending me."</p>
<p>"Not everything is your fault, Harry," Hermione said, as they approached the classroom. Neville walked inside but Hermione stood in the doorway and held Harry back from following.</p>
<p>He gave her a look like he didn't quite believe her, and she squeezed his hand. "Truly, Harry, I'm fine," she said, giving him her best smile. And in that moment, despite her aggravation, despite the rampant sexism she was enduring, despite how much she wanted to ruin Rita Skeeter, she was surprised to find that she did feel fine. She had a best friend who was worth all the trouble Rita tried to cause her.</p>
<p>"Anyone who believes that rubbish about me isn't worth it anyway," she added.</p>
<p>He looked at her, searching her eyes, looking for any hint that she was lying to him, and smiled at her, satisfied. "Okay," he said.</p>
<p>"Well, isn't this cozy?" Pansy Parkinson tittered at the sight of them in the doorway gazing at each other, Hermione holding his hand. "I suppose the lovers really have made up then?"</p>
<p>"Or Potter's just gotten his daily dose of love potion," Draco Malfoy remarked. "It's got to be some strong stuff, though. Even Potter's not fool enough to fall for someone as hideous as <em>her.</em>"</p>
<p>Harry stiffened, walking toward Malfoy. "I didn't realize <em>Witch Weekly</em> was a favorite of yours, Malfoy," he said darkly. "Tell me, what shade of dress robes did it tell you would bring out the color in your eyes?"</p>
<p>Malfoy narrowed his eyes, and his face grew even more pinched. He reached for his wand, but Harry was faster, hitting Malfoy with the banishing charm and sending him crashing into the table behind him.</p>
<p>"What's going on?" Snape sneered as he glided into the classroom, taking in the scene. Hermione felt her heart drop—things couldn't be worse for Harry.</p>
<p>"Potter attacked me," Malfoy replied automatically.</p>
<p>"That'll be a detention, Potter," Snape snapped. Hermione could sense Harry gritting his teeth, and she and Neville started to nudge him toward a table in the back.</p>
<p>"No, no," Snape said. "Miss Granger, Longbottom, take your seats in the back. Potter, come sit up front by me."</p>
<p>With a wave of his wand, the instructions for brewing an aging potion were on the board, and he instructed the class to begin. Hermione focused on measuring her bat parts, eyeing Neville carefully. He was doing a perfectly competent job—until Snape walked past them, with a sneer and a jab that Neville should avoid cutting off his own finger.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. Now that she was sitting next to Neville in Potions every class, she had begun to realize there was a pattern: Neville did fine <em>until</em> Snape meddled. Then he was a nervous wreck, messing everything up in a huge way.</p>
<p>"You've got this, Neville," she whispered encouragingly. "Just cut your fluxweed like this." And she demonstrated how for him. He smiled at her and then concentrated on his potion, focused on getting it right.</p>
<p>Snape had moved back to the front of the classroom and was now standing in front of Harry, whispering intently. She didn't know what he was saying, but there was an ugly sneer on his face and an evil glint in his eye. Harry's back was straight, taut, and she could feel the tension rolling off of him.</p>
<p>Pretending like she needed to get some more fluxweed out of the store cupboard, Hermione crept to the front of the room.</p>
<p>"You don't have much fluxweed left, Potter," Snape hissed. "Almost as if you've been using it."</p>
<p>"Yeah, I have," Harry retorted. "In Potions class. I thought that was rather the point?"</p>
<p>Snape leaned down closer to Harry, and Hermione made herself as small as she could. "If I find out it was you, not even Dumbledore will be able to save you, you nasty, self-important, arrogant little boy," he hissed.</p>
<p>"What are you talking about?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Someone's been stealing from my private store," Snape hissed. "If I catch you breaking into my office again—"</p>
<p>"I haven't been anywhere near your office," Harry said angrily.</p>
<p>"Don't lie to me," Snape threatened dangerously. "Someone has been breaking in, someone who can make himself invisible. Who might <em>that</em> be, Potter?"</p>
<p>"Anyone who knows the disillusionment charm?" Harry quipped. Hermione closed her eyes. Snape was a bully, but antagonizing him only made it worse.</p>
<p>Snape's nostrils flared. "You might be under the impression that everyone here is impressed with you, Potter, but I know that you're just an overindulged halfwit with an inflated ego."</p>
<p>Harry opened his mouth to respond—Hermione wasn't sure what exactly would come out of it, but she knew it wouldn't be good—but Snape spied her.</p>
<p>"Are you growing the fluxweed, Miss Granger?" he barked. She grabbed a handful, and caught Harry's eye, silently pleading with him to keep his anger in check, not to give Snape the satisfaction. He gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod, and she hurried back to her desk.</p>
<p>Snape leaned in close to Harry again. She could no longer hear what they were saying, but Harry kept his eyes focused on his cauldron, carefully stirring the ingredients. She sighed with relief.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione's week didn't get much better. The day before the second task, Pansy Parkinson and her gang of Slytherins loudly joked about her in Ancient Runes, and given that Professor Babbling was mostly deaf, she didn't do anything about it. Seamus and Parvati gave her commiserating smiles, but that didn't do much to help her concentration.</p>
<p>After nearly a week of ignoring the insults, having to sit there for an hour, hearing about her inferior looks, her charmless personality, what dolts Harry and Viktor were, Hermione finally felt like she was going to snap. As they left the classroom, she broke off from Seamus and Parvati—she was feeling furious, and she didn't want anyone to see her like this. She didn't want to give anyone the satisfaction of knowing Rita was getting to her.</p>
<p>Instead she headed downstairs, and before she knew it, she was outside in the courtyard. It was freezing and she didn't have a proper cloak, but the cold felt good. It gave her something to focus on besides the anger.</p>
<p>She watched her breaths coming out in small puffs, focusing on the rhythm of it. How was Rita Skeeter doing it?</p>
<p>She tramped through the snow, could feel the bottom of her robes getting wet, but each step felt like a march—to where, she didn't know.</p>
<p>And then she saw a figure in red robes walking toward her from the direction of the Durmstrang ship. Viktor waved to her in greeting.</p>
<p>"Hello," she said, when they finally met up.</p>
<p>"How are you?" Viktor asked. "You must be cold."</p>
<p>He made a move to take off his cloak to give to her, but she waved him off. She turned to continue walking and he fell into step beside her. He looked concerned, and she could tell it was about more than just the wintry weather.</p>
<p>"So you read the article too, then?" Hermione asked, embarrassed. She'd been half hoping that at least the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students wouldn't know. "I'm sorry you got dragged into this. Rita Skeeter was just trying to get back at me, and she used you to do it."</p>
<p>"I've had my fair share of press," Viktor told her. "I know how it vorks."</p>
<p>"And it doesn't bother you?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I know it's not true," he said. They walked in silence for awhile before he added, "This Rita Skeeter voman must be truly terrible to pick a fight with a teenager."</p>
<p>Hermione shrugged. "I may have attacked her a bit," she admitted, and Viktor grinned at her. "But <em>only</em> because she told some really awful lies about Harry and our old professor."</p>
<p>"You're very protective of him," Viktor observed.</p>
<p>Hermione furrowed her brow. "I'm protective of all of my friends," she said. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"</p>
<p>Viktor turned toward the castle and nodded toward it. "He's protective of you, too," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione turned and saw Harry striding toward them, her cloak in his hands.</p>
<p>"Here," he said, handing it to her when he caught up to them.</p>
<p>"How did you know?" she asked.</p>
<p>Harry jerked his head toward Gryffindor Tower. "I saw you from the window and summoned your cloak from your room," he said as she slipped it on, feeling warmer instantly.</p>
<p>"Thanks," she said.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "It's the least I could do."</p>
<p>He turned to face Viktor and squared his shoulders. "I'm glad you're here, too," Harry said. "I don't know if you've seen that rubbish article, but I never called you a prat."</p>
<p>"I believe you," Viktor said, and Harry looked relieved. "These articles haff always been exaggerations and lies."</p>
<p>"Still, I'm sorry she brought you into this, too," Harry said. "She's been trying to get something on me for months."</p>
<p>Viktor looked between Harry and Hermione and laughed.</p>
<p>"What?" Harry asked, confused.</p>
<p>"I just tried to apologize to him too," Hermione explained.</p>
<p>"And it's ridiculous for either of you to apologize," Viktor said. "Ve're only responsible for our own actions—not the actions and misdeeds of others."</p>
<p>They continued talking with Viktor for a while, but it was growing dark and Hermione told them in no uncertain terms that they both had to get a proper dinner and a good night's sleep for the task tomorrow.</p>
<p>They walked back to the castle, but had just made it into the entrance hall when Professor Flitwick found them.</p>
<p>"Ah, Miss Granger, good," he said. "Professor McGonagall is looking for you. She needs you in her office."</p>
<p>"I'll save you a seat," Harry said, and Hermione nodded, but Professor Flitwick cleared his throat.</p>
<p>"Actually, this might take awhile," he said. "Professor McGonagall has got dinner for you upstairs, I believe. I wouldn't expect Miss Granger tonight."</p>
<p>Hermione thought Professor Flitwick looked a bit uneasy.</p>
<p>"Don't wait up," she told Harry. "Get a good night's sleep and I'll see you in the morning."</p>
<p>She turned to Viktor. "Good luck tomorrow."</p>
<p>"Thank you."</p>
<p>Harry nodded at her, with one last uncertain glance at Professor Flitwick, and then he and Viktor entered the Great Hall. Hermione and Flitwick walked in relative silence up to Professor McGonagall's office, anxiety building in her with every step. Something was clearly wrong.</p>
<p>When they entered Professor McGonagall's office, there was a roaring fire, a plate of sandwiches, and some delicious looking desserts waiting. Professor McGonagall was sitting behind her desk looking exceptionally grim. Cho Chang was sitting in one of the seats in front of her desk.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Filius," Professor McGonagall said as he left and Hermione slipped into the empty seat.</p>
<p>"What's going on?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"We're still waiting on two others," Professor McGonagall said, "but you're here to take part in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament."</p>
<p>That didn't make any sense. Unless…</p>
<p>Hermione's anxiety turned to dread and crystallized in her stomach. "<em>We're</em> the treasure?" she blurted disbelievingly.</p>
<p>"What do you know about the task, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall asked sharply. Hermione looked down, unable to come up with a lie—not after she let slip that she knew about the treasure.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall sighed, though she didn't look angry. Hermione got the sense she didn't exactly approve of this task.</p>
<p>"Yes, you are the treasure," she confirmed. "You're both what the champions will sorely miss. Have some dinner, Miss Granger. Afterwards, and once the other participants have arrived, you'll be put into an enchanted sleep. When you wake, you'll be back above the lake."</p>
<p>Participants—more like hostages, Hermione thought, as she made herself a plate. She returned to the desk, plopping down angrily next to Cho. The Ravenclaw was eyeing her speculatively.</p>
<p>"What?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Which one do you think you're here for?" Cho asked.</p>
<p>Oh, <em>honestly</em>, Hermione thought. Shouldn't the answer to that be obvious?</p>
<p>She couldn't read any maliciousness or insinuations in Cho's tone—just plain curiosity—but even still, in that moment, she couldn't help but dislike the other girl.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry woke up early the next morning after a restless night dreaming about a mermaid stealing his Firebolt. He put his swim trunks on, as well as Hermione's watch and his robes, sticking the jar of gillyweed in the pocket. Feeling jittery, he went to the common room to wait for his friends for breakfast.</p>
<p>Flitwick had been right—Hermione hadn't turned up at dinner, which he had spent with Viktor and Neville. He'd been a bit surprised when Viktor asked to sit with him—the Durmstrang students always sat at the Slytherin table—but he was happy for the company nonetheless. Viktor had told him about how, when he was younger, his coaches had been able to keep him out of the press a bit—but soon enough he'd aged up and been considered fair game by reporters. Harry could relate.</p>
<p>Viktor told him that he'd found a few sports reporters he liked—ones he found relatively trustworthy—and fed them quotes every once in awhile, which generally kept the publications from bothering his family about him. "Not that you should haff to do that," Viktor had added, "but the reality is you'll alvays be famous."</p>
<p>It had been nice to talk to someone who understood what Harry had to deal with. Their dinner also had the added bonus of being the talk of the school, and Harry quickly realized that his friendliness with Viktor was probably the best thing for Hermione. Her detractors couldn't exactly claim there was some sort of jealous love triangle if Harry and Viktor were friends, could they?</p>
<p>Harry wondered idly what Viktor and the other champions planned to do today. He and Viktor had studiously avoided the topic, and when he saw Cedric last night in the entrance hall, their conversation had merely consisted of good luck and Cedric telling Harry he was going to meet Cho in the library.</p>
<p>For the first time in a year, Harry hadn't turned red at the sound of Cho's name. They had talked the other day—before this nightmare with Rita Skeeter had started—and it had been the most uncomfortable conversation of his life—and he'd had several with Moaning Myrtle.</p>
<p>It had started off well enough, talking about the quidditch match, but then she had started on about her favorite team, the Tutshill Tornados. Harry had never seen them play—hadn't seen any professional games except the World Cup—and discovered that as much as he loved quidditch, it was actually exceptionally boring to hear a play by play for a game you didn't see and a team you don't care about. Ron used to do the same thing with the Chudley Cannons—but Ron was a good storyteller and the Chudley Cannons were a terrible team, so it had been amusing to hear about seekers mistaking bludgers for snitches and chasers who accidentally used a sticking charm on their hands, so they kept trying to kick the quaffle into the goal because their hands were glued to their brooms.</p>
<p>He'd tried to find other things to talk about—but she didn't know muggle movies and shows, and he never listened to the wizarding radio, and he'd gotten so desperate for a topic of conversation that he'd almost asked her what her favorite goblin rebellion was.</p>
<p>So they just stood there, awkwardly staring at each other, with Harry wondering what a polite way to say goodbye was. They'd been interrupted then, thankfully, by her friend Marietta—the one who insulted Luna at the Yule Ball.</p>
<p>"Cho, can you help me with my Transfiguration homework later?" she'd asked.</p>
<p>"Sure. I've only got Care of Magical Creatures tomorrow morning, and you know what a joke that class is," Cho responded offhandedly.</p>
<p>Marietta had laughed and left Cho standing there with Harry, who was frowning.</p>
<p>"It's not a joke," he'd said.</p>
<p>"It didn't used to be," Cho responded. "My third year, it was great. But with Hagrid—he's nice and all, but a bit of a mess. None of the Ravenclaws understand why Professor Dumbledore made him a teacher."</p>
<p>Harry had felt his irritation growing, and glanced in the direction Marietta had gone. "Your friend," he said. "She said some pretty mean things about Luna."</p>
<p>Cho looked taken aback. "Well, I'm sure Luna must've done something weird."</p>
<p>She hadn't—she'd just been walking with Harry in the garden.</p>
<p>"I like Luna—she's very sweet—but you have to admit, she <em>does</em> bring a lot of it on herself, doesn't she?" Cho added.</p>
<p>That had pretty much been the end of the conversation.</p>
<p>Harry had mumbled goodbye and walked back up to Gryffindor Tower totally perplexed. The Cho in his head had been pretty and sweet and daring, and he supposed she was all of those things, but she was also a bit judgmental, wasn't she? And he didn't enjoy talking to her.</p>
<p>How had he gotten it so wrong?</p>
<p>In the present, Harry shook his head, shaking himself out of his reverie, and checked his watch. It was now an hour before the task, and he was antsy. Gryffindors started streaming downstairs, wishing him luck on their way to breakfast.</p>
<p>By 8:45, Neville made his way to the common room.</p>
<p>"Where's Hermione?" he asked. Harry wasn't sure. She was always downstairs early on days he had a quidditch match, and he didn't think today would be any different. He caught sight of Lavender walking toward the portrait hole.</p>
<p>"Hey Lavender!"</p>
<p>She turned and smiled at him. "Hey, Harry," she said. "Good luck today!"</p>
<p>"Thanks," he said. "Have you seen Hermione?"</p>
<p>Lavender shook her head. "No, she was already up and out when I woke up—made her bed up and everything."</p>
<p>"She must be in the Great Hall already," Neville said, ushering Harry toward the portrait hole.</p>
<p>But she wasn't in the Great Hall. She wasn't anywhere—no one had seen her. Harry was too worried for breakfast, but Neville forced him to eat a few slices of bacon and some toast.</p>
<p>She still hadn't turned up by 9:15 when Professor McGonagall told him it was time to go to the starting point. He and Neville stood up to leave, and fell into step with Cedric Diggory, who was glancing around the entrance hall, looking concerned.</p>
<p>"You all right, Cedric?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Cedric nodded, still looking troubled. "Cho's not here. And she didn't meet me in the library last night either. No one has seen her since before dinner."</p>
<p>Harry felt his stomach plummet. They wouldn't…</p>
<p>Who was he kidding? Of course they would.</p>
<p>He turned to Neville, who looked as anxious as Harry felt.</p>
<p>"What?" Cedric asked, noticing the glances they'd exchanged.</p>
<p>"Hermione's missing, too," Harry told him, watching this news register on Cedric's face. "Let's go," Harry added, hurrying out to the lake as fast as he could.</p>
<p>Viktor and Fleur were already there, and Harry shucked his robes, pulling out the gillyweed and his wand. He was ready for this blasted task to start already. He barely paid attention as Bagman made his announcements, only heard the shrill whistle blasting as he ran out into the water, eating gillyweed as he went. Neville had warned him what it would feel like—how it would take a few seconds for the gills to form—those seconds felt like forever—but finally Harry tried to draw breath, but couldn't. He dove into the water.</p>
<p>The water was eerie—dark and strange, and the deeper he went, the more the shadows felt alive. He tried to focus on following Kettleburn's directions, but he couldn't see more than 10 feet in front of him, making every weed, every log, every small fish seem like it was a monster coming to attack him from the deep.</p>
<p>In his head, the words from the song—<em>But past an hour, the prospect's black, too late, it's gone, it won't come back</em>—kept taunting him. Where was she?</p>
<p>He saw weeds ahead of him, and turned right, as Kettleburn had instructed him to do, knowing there were grindylows hiding in there.</p>
<p>He kept swimming down, and the deeper he went into the darkness, the greater his sense of foreboding. If the person who put his name in the goblet of fire wanted him dead, this was the perfect opportunity to attack. He was alone in the dark, and no one would even be looking for him for another hour. Harry gripped his wand tighter.</p>
<p>And then, finally, after what felt like forever, he found himself in a sea of black mud—which Kettleburn said marked the entrance to the merpeople's kingdom. Soon enough, he heard them chanting—<em>your time's half gone, so tarry not, lest what you seek stays here to rot</em>. He swam faster, finally catching sight of their village, and right in the center was a stone statue of a merperson, with four people bound to the tail: Hermione, a little girl with Fleur's hair, Cho, and a man Harry had never seen before.</p>
<p>The merpeople were all watching him, and despite Kettleburn being right so far, Harry half thought they were going to attack—but they didn't.</p>
<p>Harry swam to Hermione, checking her over, and it was like a punch to the gut. Her face looked lifeless, her hair drifting around her in an ethereal yet melancholy way. What sort of sick, twisted Sleeping Beauty scenario was this?</p>
<p>He tore his eyes away and glanced at the other hostages. The little girl looked ghostly green, and Cho's head was bobbing a little too forcefully in the ebb of the water. His stomach didn't flip at the sight of her. And Harry knew it wasn't just because unconscious and kidnapped wasn't exactly attractive to him—his crush was effectively over.</p>
<p>He turned back to Hermione—he needed something to cut her down with. He eyed the merpeople's spears, tried to ask for one, to take one—but they merely laughed, telling him they wouldn't help, dangerous glints in their eye. Harry turned to the ground, looking for a jagged enough rock.</p>
<p>Finding one, he cut at Hermione's ropes. When he was done, she floated near him, still unconscious, drifting in the water, her hair swirling about her, obscuring her face. Disconcerted, Harry pushed her hair out of the way. His hand brushed her cheek, and he felt his stomach turn to ice at how cold she felt.</p>
<p>He looked around—where were the other champions? <em>Too late, it's gone, it won't come back... </em><em>lest what you seek stays here to rot... </em>Their songs pounded in Harry's ears. He positioned his rock over the little girl's ropes, but no sooner had he frayed it, than he felt hands seizing him and pulling him away.</p>
<p>So the legends had been true then—you were only allowed to save your own treasure. Only… <em>Too late, it's gone, it won't come back.</em></p>
<p>And it wasn't just that. One of Voldemort's followers had likely put his name in the cup—probably on Voldemort's orders. What if they had tampered with the task somehow? What if one of the other champions got caught up in it, and they or their hostage became collateral damage? He <em>couldn't</em> leave here until he knew everyone was safe.</p>
<p>He looked back at Hermione, studying her, wishing she could talk right now, wishing he could get her opinion on the matter.</p>
<p>"You're a great wizard," she had said, and he felt himself grow calmer. She believed in him. She always stood by him. Even if she thought he was being foolish or impulsive, she had always backed his play. If she were awake, she would back it now.</p>
<p>He stayed and he waited.</p>
<p>Finally, there was a cheer from the merpeople, and Harry saw Cedric making his way toward him, an enormous bubble around his head.</p>
<p>"Got lost!" he mouthed, looking panic-stricken. "Fleur and Krum're coming now, too!" He began to cut at Cho's ropes with a knife, and Harry looked down at Hermione's watch on his wrist—less than 20 minutes were left. Even if Fleur and Krum came soon, they'd never get their hostages free and reach the surface in time.</p>
<p>Harry grabbed Cedric's arm, and Cedric turned to look at him.</p>
<p>"There's no time," Harry tried to say, but only a bubble popped out. He pointed to Hermione's watch, showing Cedric the time, and then pointed to the two other hostages, miming cutting their ropes. He then pointed at the merpeople, who were all murmuring, shifting, watching them suspiciously. With their pointy spears glinting threateningly in Harry's direction, it felt particularly ominous.</p>
<p>"You think the song was serious?" Cedric mouthed, glancing nervously at the merpeople. Harry shrugged his shoulders helplessly as if to say, "Do you really want to risk it?"</p>
<p>Cedric seemed to understand. He hesitated, looking at Cho, and Harry saw a few emotions cross his face—fear for her, a longing and desire to win and, finally, with a look back at Harry, resolution.</p>
<p>Harry turned back to the merpeople, wand at the ready, as Cedric freed Cho and began to cut the little girl's ropes. The merpeople charged at him, but Harry raised his wand higher, warning, "I'll use it."</p>
<p>They couldn't hear him, of course—all that happened was a particularly large bubble popped out of his mouth—but they must have read the intent in his eyes and his stance, eyeing his wand nervously. They stopped jeering at him, backing up slowly.</p>
<p>And then Harry saw Krum swimming toward them, half man, half shark. He had transfigured himself—though not very well. Harry glanced at his watch. It was closer to 15 minutes now. Krum started to cut at his hostage with his teeth, but Cedric offered up his knife.</p>
<p>"Where's Fleur?" he mouthed to Viktor, as Viktor worked to cut the ropes free. But Viktor shook his head and pointed upwards, his message clear: Fleur had gotten caught up and had been brought back to the surface.</p>
<p>"We're taking her!" Harry mouthed, a bubble popping out as he pointed to the little girl. Viktor looked confused at first, then nodded. Harry grabbed Hermione in one arm and the girl in the other, and Viktor did the same with his hostage and the girl.</p>
<p>Cedric swam ahead with Cho, wand out, ready to attack anything that came after them since neither Harry nor Viktor had use of their hands.</p>
<p>It was slow going—Harry couldn't use his webbed hands anymore, and they were an awkward, five-person train. The merpeople were rising with them, swimming around them with ease—would they attack when time was up? Harry pulled Hermione closer to him, wanting to keep her as far from them as possible.</p>
<p>Finally, the darkness seemed to fade, the water seemed to get brighter, and it wasn't a moment too soon, because Harry could feel his gills start to recede, and he desperately needed breath.</p>
<p>His head broke the surface, breathing in cool, clean air, and the crowd started to cheer. He knew they must look ridiculous—six heads and a shark-man bobbing in a circle of smiling merpeople. He looked down—Hermione was starting to wake, and the little girl opened her eyes, scared and confused. She caught sight of Viktor and screamed, clutching closer to Harry. Viktor's hostage—he introduced himself as Viktor's uncle, the one who raised winged horses—offered to swim her in.</p>
<p>Harry looked down at Hermione again—her cheeks were pink in the icy cold, her hair starting to turn into frozen brown icicles, but her warm brown eyes were open now and she was smiling brilliantly at him.</p>
<p>"You did it!" she beamed, shifting her arm up and around his neck in a one-armed hug. "Did everything go as planned? You weren't nervous when you realized the treasure was people, were you? Did they tell you at all beforehand?"</p>
<p>"I figured it out when you weren't at breakfast, and then Cedric said Cho was missing, too," Harry explained. "Then it seemed obvious who I was supposed to find." If possible, Hermione's smile got brighter.</p>
<p>She looked around, contemplating the scene around them.</p>
<p>"You all got there at the same time?" she asked, surveying the group swimming to shore.</p>
<p>"Er, kind of."</p>
<p>She studied his face. "What did you do?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I didn't want to leave anyone behind," Harry murmured. "So I waited for everyone to get there." Hermione shot him a half-exasperated, half-affectionate grin.</p>
<p>Now that he was above water where it was safe and bright with no menacing merpeople or looming shadows, it sounded melodramatic, even to him. Would Dumbledore have really let anyone <em>died</em>? And yet, when he'd been down there, worrying about the hostages, worrying about Voldemort, it had <em>felt</em> real.</p>
<p>But then Hermione smiled at him. "I should have known," she said, her teeth chattering a bit. Harry pulled her closer.</p>
<p>"Known that I'd be a prat about it?" Harry asked irritably.</p>
<p>"Known that you'd treat this like it were real," she countered. "Because it usually is for you." She jerked her thumb toward the others. "This is all a game to them, isn't it? They're just acting the hero. They don't know what it feels like when the stakes are actually life or death."</p>
<p>Despite the cold, Harry felt a great warmth run through him at her words. She smiled at him, and the chattering was worse. Harry could feel her shivering all over.</p>
<p>"Come on," he said, as they swam in together. It was tough—without the gillyweed, Harry wasn't a particularly strong swimmer, and Hermione's wet robes were pulling her down.</p>
<p>Harry looked at the shore. Fleur was hugging the little girl, sobbing hysterically, while Madam Pomfrey was tending to the others, thick blankets around them. Krum and Cedric had returned to normal.</p>
<p>They finally made it to shallow water, trudging toward land. Ludo Bagman and Dumbledore were at the banks, which was fortunate, because Harry was more tired than he'd ever been in his life, and Dumbledore had to half haul him out of the water, while Bagman did the same for Hermione.</p>
<p>They were promptly seized by Madam Pomfrey, who forced them into blankets and poured a Pepper Up potion down their throats, causing steam to gush out of their ears, all the while clucking about a blasted lake in February. Despite the potion, Hermione was still shivering a little and she huddled closer to Harry for warmth.</p>
<p>Madam Pomfrey turned her attentions to the little girl, and Fleur approached the group.</p>
<p>"You saved 'er," Fleur said breathlessly. "You all saved Gabrielle. Even though she was not your 'ostage!"</p>
<p>And then she bent down and kissed Viktor and his uncle on both cheeks to thank them. She moved toward Cedric, but Cho body blocked her.</p>
<p>"A thank you will do," Cho said stiffly, her eyes flashing with jealousy.</p>
<p>Fleur gave her a haughty smile, but then looked more warmly at Cedric. "Thank you," she said, turning around, "and thank you, 'arry."</p>
<p>She swooped down to kiss his cheeks, and Harry felt them burn red. He'd never been kissed by anyone before—not even on the cheek, not even one of those perfunctory kisses other kids got from their great aunts—and all in all it felt like a decidedly personal way of thanking an almost stranger. Harry saw Hermione eyeing him thoughtfully, but he focused his attention on Ludo Bagman, who was ready to announce the results.</p>
<p>Fleur received 25 points for proper demonstration of the bubble-head charm, but failure to retrieve her hostage.</p>
<p>"The other champions all returned at the same time," Bagman's booming voice continued. "And all chose to aid in the safe return of a hostage not their own, which the panel believes shows great moral fiber from them all. Mr. Viktor Krum reached the hostages third. He used an incomplete form of transfiguration, which was nevertheless effective. We award him forty points."</p>
<p>"Mr. Cedric Diggory, who also used the Bubble-Head Charm, was second to reach the hostages. We award him 45 points."</p>
<p>"Mr. Harry Potter used gillyweed to great effect. He was the first to reach the hostages, but was determined not to leave until all hostages were safe. The merchieftainess informs us that it was Mr. Potter who spearheaded the effort to save Gabrielle Delacour, demonstrating not only moral fiber, but exceptional leadership skills. The judges feel this merits full marks—Mr. Potter is awarded 50 points."</p>
<p>Ludo Bagman looked positively gleeful, while Karkaroff was glowering—but Viktor had forced him into it. He couldn't very well take points off Harry for the same thing Viktor had done.</p>
<p>For his part, Harry was stunned. And then he felt Hermione's arms around his neck. "You're in first place!" she cried, hugging him tighter.</p>
<p>He was in first place—not tied, but by himself. Harry heard the crowd thundering around him, but it all felt very far away.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The week after the task, Harry should have been flying high, but several things happened at once to bring him back to reality.</p>
<p>The first had been a letter from Sirius, which normally would have cheered him up. But this letter merely gave him instructions to meet him at the stile at the end of the road out of Hogsmeade at noon during the next Hogsmeade weekend.</p>
<p>"I knew he was coming back to the country, but to meet in Hogsmeade?" Hermione said. "That's really risky!"</p>
<p>"If he's caught…" Harry said tensely, torn between fear for Sirius and a desire to see him again.</p>
<p>"Well, no one knows he's an animagus, right?" Neville asked. "So it's not like anyone will be looking for a dog." But still, he looked worried.</p>
<p>The second was Harry's detention with Snape, in which Harry had to scrape tubeworms off the desks with Snape breathing down his neck for hours. It had been hard, excruciating work, made worse by Snape's side comments and sneers about Harry being a pompous, self-important dolt, and the only relief he'd gotten was when Karkaroff barged in demanding to speak with Snape.</p>
<p>Snape had turned his cold eyes on Harry, dismissing him, and while Harry had packed up his things as slowly as possible, he hadn't seen or heard anything of interest—just Karkaroff looking more jittery than Harry had ever seen him.</p>
<p>The third thing had been Rita Skeeter. Things had gotten better for Hermione at school at first. After she was chosen as Harry's hostage and Viktor didn't react—not to mention Harry's dinner with Viktor—almost everyone except the Slytherins backed off, assuming there wasn't much of a story there.</p>
<p>Viktor's fan club, assuming she was Harry's girlfriend, stopped following her around and hissing at her. While the assumption had annoyed him the last time Rita had written an article about them, Harry was perfectly fine to let people think what they wanted if it meant Hermione didn't have to deal with their abuse.</p>
<p>But then the letters started arriving. Things started slow at first—there were delays in the post for weeks because the owls kept getting blown off course by harsh winds—but soon there was a steady stream of hate mail from girls and women around the country who fancied themselves Harry's protectors—as well as quite a few blokes who were quidditch fans—telling her she deserved to be boiled in frog spawn. Some of the letters contained minor curses and undiluted bubotuber pus, sending Hermione to the hospital wing that first day. After that, they learned to just burn the letters.</p>
<p>"It eez just jealousy," Fleur told her one morning.</p>
<p>After Viktor's dinner with Harry, he had stopped eating at the Durmstrang table altogether, alternating between the Gryffindors and sitting with Cedric Diggory. Fleur, who was feeling much more warmly toward her fellow competitors since they had saved Gabrielle, sometimes joined them.</p>
<p>Hermione hadn't been particularly happy with Fleur's presence at first. She had disliked the witch since the very first day when Fleur had walked in and laughed derisively at Hogwarts—and Fleur's rude comments about Hogwarts during the Yule Ball dinner hadn't exactly endeared her to Hermione either.</p>
<p>But Fleur did not seem to even realize Hermione didn't like her—she had a very high opinion of herself—and had forged ahead in conversations as if they were old friends.</p>
<p>"People are always envious of eempressive witches," Fleur continued. " 'Ou should not let eet bother you."</p>
<p>And then she had incinerated the rest of Hermione's hate mail with an impressive bit of nonverbal magic. Harry could see Hermione warring with herself—Fleur's entire personality rubbed her the wrong way, but that <em>was</em> a really advanced spell.</p>
<p>And in the end, Hermione's desire for learning won out and she and Fleur got involved in a fairly enthusiastic conversation about nonverbal spells, Hermione only making a face twice at something rude Fleur said, a record low for these breakfasts.</p>
<p>Soon enough, it was the day of the Hogsmeade weekend, and Neville, Harry and Hermione set out early to meet Sirius. The stile was in a part of Hogsmeade Harry had never been before, out in the countryside, at the foot of the mountain Hogsmeade was adjacent to.</p>
<p>There, waiting for them, was a shaggy black dog, who led them toward the mountain, climbing higher and higher until they were all out of breath, leading them to a cave.</p>
<p>Harry followed him inside, only to find it was warm and inviting, with a plush rug on the cool floor, lights hovering above, and a cot in the corner with thick blankets. A warm, smokeless fire was roaring, surrounded by five armchairs. Remus Lupin was sitting in one of them.</p>
<p>"Professor Lupin!" Hermione greeted him, running over to give him a hug hello.</p>
<p>Harry watched as Sirius turned back into a man. His robes were shabby yet clean, and his hair was still quite long. He looked a little thinner though.</p>
<p>"We should have brought you food," Harry said, eyeing him carefully.</p>
<p>"No need," Sirius replied, ruffling Harry's hair affectionately as he grinned at him. "Moony's already taken care of that."</p>
<p>"Once I realized Sirius was determined to hide out in Hogsmeade, no matter how foolish it was, I spoke with Professor Dumbledore," Remus explained. "At our last meeting at Hogwarts, I happened to meet a house elf named Dobby who is particularly fond of you, Harry. When Albus offered him the opportunity to supply Harry Potter's godfather with food, he jumped at the chance."</p>
<p>Harry felt a rush of affection for Dobby.</p>
<p>"He comes by every few days with a new supply," Sirius explained, walking over to a basket in the corner. "Biscuit, anyone?"</p>
<p>Not wanting to steal from Sirius, Harry and Hermione shook their heads.</p>
<p>"He's an odd little elf, Harry, but quite good-hearted," Sirius said. "You have the most interesting friends."</p>
<p>He turned toward Neville, who was still standing near the opening of the cave, watching them all uncertainly. Whether it was because he was the only one who didn't know Sirius, or because up until a few months ago, he believed Sirius to be a deranged murderer, Harry couldn't tell.</p>
<p>"Speaking of interesting friends, you must be Neville Longbottom," Sirius said warmly, walking toward Neville and holding out his hand. "I've heard a lot about you."</p>
<p>Neville shook it nervously, and Harry hoped this meeting wouldn't be a disaster.</p>
<p>"You have?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"Of course," Sirius said, leading Neville toward the armchairs, where Harry and Hermione were now sitting with Remus. Remus smiled encouragingly at Neville, and Neville seemed more comfortable.</p>
<p>"Moony here has told me all about how you defeated your boggart—brilliant that was, you'll have to show me sometime," Sirius said, grinning at Neville. "And Harry has told me what a good friend you've been—standing by him when almost no one else did." At that, Sirius shot Hermione an affectionate grin, too.</p>
<p>Neville blushed and sat in the chair.</p>
<p>"Now, tell us about the second task," Sirius said, and Harry launched into the tale, explaining all about the prefects' bathroom and Kettleburn, the gillyweed, and finally the lake. When he got to the part about waiting for the other competitors, Remus and Sirius shared a meaningful look.</p>
<p>"You really are just like your dad, Harry," Sirius said quietly, and Harry felt a surge of pride, but was very glad when Remus took the attention off Harry by turning to Neville.</p>
<p>"That was really clever of you to think of the gillyweed, too, Neville," Remus added, and Neville blushed.</p>
<p>"He's brilliant at Herbology," Hermione chimed in, smiling at her friend.</p>
<p>"It's true," Harry added. "Professor Sprout is always asking for his help with the greenhouses."</p>
<p>"Your mum always had a bit of a green thumb, too," Sirius commented.</p>
<p>"You knew my mother?" Neville asked, perking up.</p>
<p>"Did you go to school together?" Hermione queried.</p>
<p>"No, Frank and Alice were a number of years older than us," Remus said. "But we were all in the Order of the Phoenix together."</p>
<p>"The Order of the Phoenix?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"It was a secret society dedicated to fighting You-Know-Who," Neville whispered. "During the war. My gran's told me all about how my parents were part of it. She said they were war heroes."</p>
<p>"Your dad was one of the fiercest fighters I've ever seen," Sirius said. "And your mum—she was smart as a whip."</p>
<p>Neville looked straight at Sirius, hanging on his every word. Sirius' eyes looked very far away as he settled into his reminiscence.</p>
<p>"She and Lily—Harry's mum—had all these plans for the future," he said. "They were pregnant at the same time, obviously, and constantly had their heads together. Lily made you both these baby blankets, and after you were born, Alice came over as often as she could to see you, Harry. It wasn't as often as she'd like—we were all busy with the war—but she and Lily dreamed about—"</p>
<p>He cut off bitterly, his face looking as haunted as it did whenever he spoke of his time in Azkaban.</p>
<p>Harry looked down. Whatever his mum and Alice had dreamed about, it certainly hadn't come true, had it?</p>
<p>Harry couldn't help but imagine it: A world where his parents had lived, where his mum tucked him into bed at night and his dad taught him how to ride a broom. A world where Remus and Sirius set off fireworks to entertain him, and Alice Longbottom was his mum's friend, bringing her son over to play with Harry. A world where Harry would have had at least one friend his own age before he turned 11, and that friend would've been Neville. They would've played hide-and-seek with Sirius and Remus and his dad and the invisibility cloak, would've baked cookies with their mums, would've spent the summers swimming in Neville's lake.</p>
<p>He snuck a glance at Neville, and saw he was looking wistfully at Harry; clearly, similar thoughts had crossed his mind. Neville smiled at him—but it was small and sad, and Harry felt his eyes burning, thinking of all the ways his life should've been different. He had to look away.</p>
<p>"Where's Buckbeak?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence, but her voice sounded high-pitched and strained and Harry was sure if he looked at her there would be tears in her eyes.</p>
<p>Sirius cleared his throat. "I found a cave for him a little ways up," he said. "He gets a bit sick of me sometimes."</p>
<p>Once again, silence filled the cave and Harry found himself fighting back the urge to lose himself in his fantasies—Dumbledore had once told him it did not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. His parents were dead, but Sirius and Remus were here now.</p>
<p>"You said you've been having meetings with Professor Dumbledore?" Hermione asked Remus, trying again for a topic of conversation. "Anything interesting you can share with us?"</p>
<p>"Are you coming back to teach?" Neville asked hopefully.</p>
<p>Neville had gotten used to Moody's gruff demeanor, but there was no doubt he'd prefer Remus any day of the week.</p>
<p>"No, nothing like that," Remus answered. "We've been meeting to discuss Sirius. Obviously, the best way to clear his name is to find Pettigrew, but considering he's likely holed up in some remote corner of the world with Voldemort right now, we've been brainstorming other options."</p>
<p>"Like what?" Harry asked, trying not to feel too hopeful.</p>
<p>"Well, Dumbledore asked Ron's mum for some pictures of the family with his rat over the years—not sure how he managed that one without arising her suspicions," Sirius said.</p>
<p>"We don't have any photos of him in his animagus form from when we were younger," Remus added. "But we often played jokes that required one of us to sneak in somewhere—so there were plenty of times when Peter, in his rat form, wandered around the castle. I've been reaching out to old schoolmates, under the guise of a research project for the school, to have them send me old photos to see if he's in any of them."</p>
<p>"Plus, as you might know, the school is required to keep the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. tests of every student from the past 30 years," Sirius said. Harry and Neville clearly had no clue about this, but Hermione was looking at them knowledgeably. "There was a question about animagus transformation on ours—and, as you can imagine, James, Peter and I had pretty detailed answers. Minerva has dug them up."</p>
<p>"None of this is definitive proof," Remus warned. "Right now, all handing this evidence over would do is alert the ministry that Sirius is an animagus. But if we come up with enough—maybe we won't need Peter."</p>
<p>Harry couldn't help but feel guilty—it was his fault they didn't have Peter, his fault the rat had been able to go free. Sirius was watching him carefully, and Harry got the feeling he knew exactly what Harry was thinking.</p>
<p>"It's still dangerous for you to be here," Harry said.</p>
<p>"It's not particularly safe for me to be much of anywhere," Sirius quipped, "so I might as well be close to my godson. Besides, Remus and Albus have been keeping me up on the news, and things are getting fishier."</p>
<p>"How do you mean?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Well, Barty Crouch hasn't been seen by anyone since last November," Remus said, "and there's a witch who works for the ministry, Bertha Jorkins, who has disappeared."</p>
<p>Sirius told them all about Crouch—how it was odd that he worked so hard to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament and then just disappeared, how he had never taken a sick day in his life, how he had been the one to send Sirius to Azkaban without a trial, how he had become as cruel and relentless as the Death Eaters in his pursuit of power and eliminating Voldemort.</p>
<p>"Nothing about his behavior now makes any sense," Remus said, shaking his head.</p>
<p>"And when you add to that that Karkaroff is here and someone put your name in the goblet of fire—I don't like any of it," Sirius added.</p>
<p>"Karkaroff has been really friendly with Snape," Harry said. "I saw them talking at the Yule Ball and then again the other day in detention."</p>
<p>"I know Karkaroff was a Death Eater, but Dumbledore trusts Snape," Hermione said insistently. "And he did save your life first year."</p>
<p>Sirius glowered, and Remus gave him a warning glance. Sirius sat back, clearly still incensed, but he refrained from saying whatever it was he wanted to.</p>
<p>"Snape was a Death Eater, too," Neville said quietly.</p>
<p>Harry looked sharply at Neville.</p>
<p>"My dad arrested him," Neville continued, looking around at them all. "Gran and Great Uncle Algie and Great Aunt Eunice used to talk about it a lot at dinner, back before I came to Hogwarts. Gran's quite proud of all of my dad's accomplishments…" He trailed off, shaking his head, blinking quite a lot. "I always figured that's why Snape hated me so much."</p>
<p>Except for the crackling fire, the cave was silent as Harry digested that information. "Do you know what happened?" he asked. "Why he got off?"</p>
<p>"Because of Professor Dumbledore," Remus answered. Harry whipped his head around to look at Remus, who did not look surprised by Neville's statement. A quick look at Sirius confirmed that he wasn't either.</p>
<p>"You both knew?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Remus informed me not too long ago," Sirius replied, his face dark.</p>
<p>"There was a hearing not long after Voldemort's fall," Remus explained. "It was fairly quiet—there were a lot of hearings and trials in those days, and the ones that made the front page were the ones where people were sent to Azkaban. But you can imagine, given my history with Severus, that his dismissal was of particular interest to me then."</p>
<p>"But if charges were dismissed, then he wasn't a Death Eater?" Hermione reasoned.</p>
<p>Sirius snorted derisively, and Remus ran his hand over his face, looking particularly weary.</p>
<p>"He was," Remus confirmed. "But Dumbledore says he changed sides and turned spy for us before before Voldemort's fall. And I trust Dumbledore."</p>
<p>"Gran thinks it's rubbish," Neville said. "She says she thinks highly of Albus Dumbledore—that he would've made a better minister for magic than that half-witted attention hog Cornelius Fudge—but anyone who thinks Severus Snape isn't a dark wizard has to be a bit barmy."</p>
<p>Remus' expression was neutral, but there was a ghost of a smile on Sirius' face at that. Remus looked pointedly at Sirius, and they stared at each other, having some sort of silent conversation that Harry couldn't read, before Sirius looked away, clearly annoyed.</p>
<p>Remus looked at Harry and his friends. "I know Professor Snape is—er—not the warmest of teachers," he said. "And he's treated all of you abominably. But Albus Dumbledore is certain that he's no Death Eater—and he wouldn't say something like that without irrefutable evidence."</p>
<p>Harry didn't know what to say to that. But Hermione did.</p>
<p>"Now," Hermione said bitterly. They all looked at her. Her face was white and her eyes were glittering. "You mean he's not a Death Eater now. But he wasn't always on our side."</p>
<p>"War isn't always black and white, Hermione," Remus said, looking older than Harry had ever seen him. "Sometimes we have to work with people who have done despicable things."</p>
<p>"But you don't just become a Death Eater by earning badges for camping or whittling like you're some sort of girl guide, do you?" Hermione asked. "Before he left the Death Eaters, he must've done some really terrible things."</p>
<p>"I imagine he did," Remus conceded.</p>
<p>"And you wouldn't join You-Know-Who's inner circle unless you really believed what they believed in, would you?" she continued.</p>
<p>The others were silent.</p>
<p>"Did you ever hear him call someone a mudblood?" she asked, her voice trembling, while the others flinched at the word. "You went to school with him. Did you?"</p>
<p>"Hermione—"</p>
<p>"Don't lie to her, Moony," Sirius practically growled, before turning to look at Hermione, his face grave and resolute. "Yes."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded her head, clearly furious. "Right," she said in a clipped voice, as if that was all she needed to know about the subject.</p>
<p>Harry's head was spinning. He'd always had suspicions about Snape, but it was true: He used to be a Death Eater. And Neville had known it all along, had kept Snape's secret—no wonder he was so afraid of Snape.</p>
<p>Harry eyed Hermione. She looked angry—and a little lost. She had always had faith in Dumbledore, had usually admonished Harry for thinking badly of Snape when Harry thought he might be behind some of the plots they'd uncovered over the years. She had always been someone who believed in the sanctity of the school—and now she'd found out that Dumbledore let a former member of a terrorist group dead set on killing people like her teach in Hogwarts.</p>
<p>Harry felt a surge of anger at the thought.</p>
<p>Remus cleared his throat. "I know this is upsetting. But I truly don't believe Albus Dumbledore would let Severus Snape into Hogwarts if he thought he was dangerous to you all," he said, looking down at his hands, before eyeing them again. "And, for better or worse, he is your teacher."</p>
<p>"So we should respect him?" Harry asked, a little incredulously.</p>
<p>"No," Remus answered. "You don't have to respect his choices or like him as a person. I'd be shocked if any of you did. But he has Professor Dumbledore's backing and he's a person in a position of authority."</p>
<p>"In other words," Sirius said contemptuously, "Snivellus is a greasy, slimy git who would love nothing more than to make all of your lives miserable if you were to breathe a word of this to anyone."</p>
<p>Harry felt his anger rise up. How would that be any different than how Snape treated him now?</p>
<p>Sirius sighed, his weathered face looking more drawn than usual. "Much as I hate it, Moony's right," he said. "With everything we don't know about who put your name in the goblet of fire, Harry, it's best not to draw attention from anyone we don't trust."</p>
<p>Neville looked down at his watch. "We're supposed to meet Luna at Gladrags," he said, looking between Harry, Sirius and Remus. "If you want to stay, Harry, I'm sure Luna would understand."</p>
<p>Harry did want to stay, did want to be with Sirius and Remus, but he wanted them to be talking about Dobby and winning the task and Buckbeak, and not how many former Death Eaters were currently inhabiting Hogwarts.</p>
<p>"You should probably go, Harry," Sirius said reluctantly. "Make sure you're seen around town, so no one gets suspicious." Harry nodded.</p>
<p>"It was nice meeting you," Neville told Sirius.</p>
<p>Remus squeezed Harry's shoulder affectionately before saying goodbye to the others. He murmured something to Hermione, who attempted to smile at him.</p>
<p>Sirius turned to face Harry.</p>
<p>"You're not to sneak out of school to see me, all right?" he said sternly. "It would be an ideal way for someone to attack you."</p>
<p>"No one's tried to attack me—"</p>
<p>"I don't care. I'll breathe freely when this tournament is over," he said, pulling Harry into a hug.</p>
<p>Harry stiffened at first—the only person he could ever remember hugging him was Hermione. He had a whisper of a memory from when he was very small—too young to realize what his relationship with the Dursleys was. He had been sick and reached for Aunt Petunia, but she'd swatted him away, warning him not to infect Dudley.</p>
<p>This was something new. Hermione's hugs were fierce, but she was smaller than him. Sirius, despite his thinness, was larger, and he enveloped Harry fully. Harry felt himself relax, leaning into it—this must be what it was like to have a parent. He felt Sirius' hand cradling the back of his head, and the gentle pressure felt reassuring and safe. For just a moment, Harry let himself close his eyes and pretend.</p>
<p>Pulling away, Sirius looked him in the eye, "You keep your head down, all right?"</p>
<p>Harry nodded, and with one last look at Remus and Sirius, exited the cave with his friends.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione exited the cave hoping that the cool air would help calm her down. She'd never thought Professor Snape was a great man—no matter what a rule follower she was, no matter how much everyone thought she idolized her professors, she still had eyes and a brain in her head. She saw how he belittled Neville, how he taunted Harry, how he favored the Slytherins over everyone else. She'd heard him call her an insufferable know-it-all. Professor Snape was a bully and he always had been.</p>
<p>Yes, she'd defended him at times when Ron or Harry thought he'd been behind some of the nefarious things that had gone on—but that was because there was a difference between a bully and a Death Eater. After he had saved Harry's life first year, she had figured he was just a disagreeable, despicable man—but not an evil one. After all, Professor Dumbledore vouched for him every day he employed him.</p>
<p>But now? She trudged down the mountain, unsure how to feel. What were you supposed to do when you found out your teacher had been a Death Eater? Even if he really had changed, even if he had decided to stop killing and torturing muggles—that's what Death Eaters did, wasn't it?—how did she know he didn't still believe all of that blood purity rubbish? Maybe he just switched sides because he saw the writing on the wall, and he wanted to save his own skin. After all, he did favor the Slytherins—a bunch of purebloods and halfbloods—and the three students he seemed to hate the most were a muggleborn and the two boys whose parents had been members of the Order of the Phoenix.</p>
<p>They finished their descent in silence, and Hermione looked at Harry and Neville when they finally reached the bottom. Neville's face was a mixture of sadness and apprehension, while Harry looked concerned.</p>
<p>"You all right, Hermione?" he asked.</p>
<p>"No," she said honestly.</p>
<p>"I shouldn't've said anything," Neville jumped in hastily. "I'm not even really supposed to know, I don't think. Gran hasn't mentioned it at all since I started Hogwarts, but when I was younger, my family used to talk about it all the time. I'm sorry, Hermione."</p>
<p>"For what? I'm glad I know," she responded, and to her great annoyance, she had to blink back tears. It <em>wasn't</em> because of Snape, she vowed to herself. For the first time in her life, she was questioning her very education, the people who were entrusted to impart learning.</p>
<p>She started walking briskly down the street. Harry and Neville followed quietly.</p>
<p>And then she blurted, "It's just… I'm not stupid."</p>
<p>"Everyone knows <em>that</em>," Harry said.</p>
<p>"I do understand what Lupin was saying. When you're fighting a war, if someone from the enemy side wants to fight for you, of course you let them," she said. "And afterward, if the help they've given you was really extraordinary—if they helped save a lot of lives, if they helped win the war—maybe that means they don't get punished for the things they've done… But there's a huge difference between keeping someone out of Azkaban and letting them roam free in a school."</p>
<p>She bit her lip, looking at her friends. Harry glanced at Neville.</p>
<p>"You won't get arguments from us," Harry said. Neville nodded.</p>
<p>Hermione faced forward, and they continued walking. What had Dumbledore been thinking when he hired Snape? Between that and him continuing to send Harry to the Dursleys—even though he knew how Harry was treated—she was beginning to question some of his judgment. She knew he meant well, trusted that he had good intentions—but the Dursleys were abusive and Snape had been a <em>Death Eater</em>. What possible reason could there be for Harry's living situation or giving Snape a teaching post? Dumbledore <em>must</em> have one—but even good intentions could sometimes lead to extremely bad decisions, couldn't they?</p>
<p>"Why didn't you ever tell us?" Harry asked Neville.</p>
<p>Neville's face burned. "I don't know," he said. "There's a lot of things that get said in magical households that we don't really talk about much. The war wasn't that long ago, and everyone remembers. Lucius Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle's dads—they all talked their way out of Azkaban, too. And there were loads of others. But you're supposed to just…pretend in public. Like if we don't mention it, it didn't exist. Like all of the prejudices and war crimes just disappeared along with You-Know-Who."</p>
<p>He glanced at Hermione. "But when I heard you defending him," Neville added, his face burning brighter, but his jaw set, "I couldn't not say anything."</p>
<p>Hermione felt revolted. No, he must've felt sick, listening to his muggleborn friend defending a former Death Eater. She certainly did just thinking about it.</p>
<p>She smiled at him, small but reassuring, and squeezed his hand briefly. As awful as this news was, ignorance was even worse.</p>
<p>They continued down the lane.</p>
<p>"What do you reckon about all that stuff with Crouch?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Hermione replied. "Winky might know something, I suppose."</p>
<p>Neville shook his head. "I can't imagine he's gone dark, though," he said, and then he added in a quiet voice, "He's the one who sentenced Barty Crouch Jr. to Azkaban for life. Gran says Crouch was really angry at the trial—completely disowned his son. Crouch hasn't looked her in the eyes since."</p>
<p>She heard the hurt in his voice, and watching her two friends walking side by side was another kick to the gut. When Sirius had been going on about Lily and Alice earlier, the pain that both of her friends felt had been almost too much to bear. Neville had always worn his emotions on his sleeve, and this time was no different: She'd seen the longing on his face as he'd looked at Harry, could see him imagining a past where they had grown up as friends. She could only imagine how different Neville would be—how much more confident he'd be in himself—if he'd had someone like Harry all along.</p>
<p>Harry was the exact opposite when it came to feelings. He tried to keep his emotions in at all times—unless that emotion was anger. He had looked away from Neville the second his own feelings began to show, concentrating on the floor, patently refusing to look even at her. And yet, she knew him well enough to know he'd been fantasizing the same as Neville.</p>
<p>They both should have led very different lives, and not for the first time in the past few months, she was exceedingly glad they had found each other.</p>
<p>They reached town, which was quite busy now, and Hermione saw Luna sitting on a bench outside Gladrags, reading <em>The Quibbler. </em></p>
<p>"Hi Luna," she greeted her, and Luna looked up at them all.</p>
<p>"Hello," she said, studying them. "You all look sad."</p>
<p>Hermione felt Harry fidget uncomfortably behind her. As angry as she was about Snape, Professor Lupin and Sirius had a point about not telling others what they knew. And she definitely didn't want to spill Harry and Neville's emotional scars about their parents in the middle of Hogsmeade.</p>
<p>Hermione forced a smile. "We were just out by the Shrieking Shack," she fibbed, hoping it would quickly end the topic of conversation.</p>
<p>"Oh, yes," Luna said, nodding sagely. "I can see how that might be upsetting."</p>
<p>She turned and led the way into the store. When they reached the socks section, Luna asked, "What kind of socks does Dobby like?"</p>
<p>"All kinds," Harry answered. "The weirder, the better."</p>
<p>But he needn't have added that, because Luna had already gravitated toward a pair with blue and orange stripes covered in green cats, with a glittery pom-pom attached to the back of each sock. They were the ugliest pair Hermione had ever seen. Dobby would love them.</p>
<p>Harry wanted to get Dobby a pair too—likely for his help with Sirius—and Luna advised him to get a pair with tiger stripes that roared when you touched them.</p>
<p>By the time they were done picking out a few more pairs—dissecting all the way whether Dobby would prefer neon yellow socks that faded to brown the dirtier they got or finger-toe socks charmed to play the piano with your feet—they were all in a better mood.</p>
<p>They exited the store and Luna turned to them. "This was fun! Thank you," she said in a tone that sounded like a goodbye.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Harry asked incredulously. "We haven't even gone to the Three Broomsticks yet."</p>
<p>A wide smile formed on Luna's face. "No one's ever invited me to the Three Broomsticks before!" she said gaily.</p>
<p>The pub was busy. Hermione saw Ginny and Michael Corner sitting in a private booth, and Hermione was very glad that Ron and his brothers were on the other side of the pub with Lee Jordan, unable to see Ginny.</p>
<p>Luna and Neville went to grab a table, and Harry and Hermione walked toward the bar to get their drinks. They passed Cedric and Cho, sitting with a few of their friends. Cedric nodded at Harry as they passed, and he nodded back. Hermione looked at him—he didn't seem to have any sort of reaction to Cho at all.</p>
<p>"You never did tell us how your talk with Cho went," she said.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Bit awkward, actually. Turns out we don't have much in common besides quidditch."</p>
<p>"Oh," Hermione said, feeling pleased by that. Neville had been right. "Well, better to find out now, I suppose."</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Plus, it makes talking to Cedric a lot easier."</p>
<p>They reached the bar and Harry ordered the butterbeers. Hermione added on an order of chips—after the conversation they'd had with Remus and Sirius, they could use it. Madam Rosmerta looked at them appraisingly, a bit disappointed when Harry asked for four butterbeers instead of two.</p>
<p>People had been doing that a lot lately—ever since the second task, all of Hogwarts seemed to be under the impression that the matter of the love triangle was settled. In some ways, it annoyed her. When Cho had asked her which champion she thought she was there for, the answer had seemed exceedingly obvious to Hermione. She'd known Viktor for a few of months, but she'd been friends with Harry for years.</p>
<p>And yet, even knowing that it should have been Harry, when she'd opened her eyes in that icy water, and looked into Harry's green ones, she'd felt a little thrill go through her. There was no denying that they'd gotten closer this year; ever since the ball, when she'd confessed to him that she had sometimes felt she'd come second to Ron, he'd been different.</p>
<p>When Malfoy had hexed her teeth last November, she hadn't seen Harry until the next morning at breakfast. But when she'd gotten a letter filled with undiluted bubotuber pus, he'd visited her in the hospital wing right away, even though it wasn't that serious and she was allowed to leave within a couple of hours.</p>
<p>He'd clearly taken what she'd said to heart, and even though Harry didn't get to choose his hostage, he knew she was his the second he realized people had been taken—it hadn't even occurred to him that she might be Viktor's hostage. Harry might not have been the one to pick her, but it all still felt like a symbol of…something. Whatever it was, it made Hermione feel inordinately happy.</p>
<p>Madam Rosmerta came back with their food and drinks, and Harry and Hermione made their way back to Neville and Luna.</p>
<p>"So you won't be coming with us tomorrow?" Luna asked Neville, as Harry and Hermione sat down.</p>
<p>Neville shook his head. "Professor Flitwick offered to help me with my banishing charm, but it's the only time he has available," he said. "But I promise to come with you the next time you visit Dobby."</p>
<p>Luna picked up her butterbeer, offering a thanks to Harry, and took a sip. She looked around, taking in the Weasley twins, who had just turned Lee Jordan's hair orange; Hagrid, well on his way to sloshed, in the corner with Professor Moody; the group of Hufflepuffs playing exploding snap in the center of the room; and Madam Rosmerta at the bar, making a complicated sort of drink involving fire, blue smoke and a sugar quill.</p>
<p>"What do you think?" Harry asked, as he popped a chip into his mouth.</p>
<p>"I think it's superb," she beamed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Breakfast the next morning was not particularly pleasant. It had started out well enough, but then Hermione had gotten her daily dose of hate mail. She'd picked it up, planning to burn it all, but someone had gotten a bit exuberant with their undiluted bubotuber pus, and a small amount of it had leaked out to the outside of the envelope.</p>
<p>"Ow!" she yelped as a few of her fingers quickly became covered in painful sores.</p>
<p>"We'd better get you up to the hospital wing," Harry said, as he leaned down to gather her bag.</p>
<p>"No need," Hermione replied. "This isn't as bad as last time. Madam Pomfrey gave me some ointment last time around, just in case. It's there in the front compartment if you can grab it." She dipped her napkin in her water goblet and wiped off the pus, and then Harry applied the ointment to her hand.</p>
<p>He looked down, inspecting his work. "I think the swelling's gone down a bit," he said.</p>
<p>"Thanks," Hermione replied.</p>
<p>By the end of breakfast, the swelling had indeed gone down, but her hand was still an angry shade of red.</p>
<p>"Maybe you need something stronger?" Neville suggested.</p>
<p>Hermione sighed. "Madam Pomfrey warned me that it could take awhile to take full effect."</p>
<p>They stood up from the table, gathering their things, and walked out to the entrance hall where Harry and Hermione were supposed to meet Luna.</p>
<p>"Why don't I stop by Professor Moody's after I meet with Professor Flitwick?" Neville suggested. "His office is nearby, and he used to be an auror—I bet he knows loads of tricks for dealing with wounds like that."</p>
<p>"From the look of his face, he's never used any of them," Harry said dryly.</p>
<p>Neville shrugged, grinning. "All the better to intimidate dark wizards, I suppose."</p>
<p>"Thanks, Neville, that would be great," Hermione said, hoisting her heavy bag a little higher on her shoulder. He waved goodbye to them and headed up the stairs.</p>
<p>Harry was frowning at her.</p>
<p>"What?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Hermione, it's Sunday."</p>
<p>"Well-spotted," she teased.</p>
<p>"What could you possibly have in that bag?" Harry asked, eyeing the way it was weighing down her shoulder.</p>
<p>She blushed. "Oh, just a little research project I'm doing," she replied. Harry looked at her expectantly. She led him over to a bench, dropping her bag onto it, and reached past a few books to pull out a thick set of parchments.</p>
<p>"Well, you know how I've been researching the Triwizard Tournament?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Well, the library has books that are filled with details on all of the tasks. The first two are always completely different. But I've noticed a pattern with the third task: It's almost always an obstacle course of some sort."</p>
<p>She laid some of her parchments out on the bench. They were filled with graphs and color-coded notes, and the data was charmed to sort itself by date, type of task, and host school, depending on how she wanted to look at the information.</p>
<p>"The judges want to make sure that the winner of the third task is clear," she explained. "This way, no judges could pick a winner based on favoritism. There's a race and whomever gets to the Triwizard Cup first wins."</p>
<p>Harry was looking down at her research, a befuddled look on his face.</p>
<p>"I wasn't going to show you until I was finished—but I'm nearly there, I suppose," she added. "The race isn't always the same, but like I said, it's some sort of obstacle course. There's magical creatures, charms and enchantments to deal with, in order to make sure the winner has a broad range of skills."</p>
<p>She picked up another piece of parchment, which had a list of about 50 spells on it, handing it to him. "I've come up with a few spells for you to learn," she added. "These will probably come in handy with the task."</p>
<p>Harry looked down at the list, his eyes wide, and then set the parchment down atop the others.</p>
<p>"You did all this?" Harry asked, awed.</p>
<p>Hermione furrowed her brow. "Of course. You're my best friend, Harry."</p>
<p>And then he did something he had never done before, and he enveloped Hermione in a hug.</p>
<p>Hermione, blinked, surprised, but wound her arms around his neck automatically. She'd hugged him loads of times—and grabbed his hand and clutched his arm—but the only times she could really recall Harry initiating contact was when he was saving her from some danger or dancing with her at the Yule Ball. But he'd certainly never hugged her.</p>
<p>It was only a short time ago that Fleur kissed him on the cheek to thank him for saving her sister, and even then, Harry had looked more uncomfortable and embarrassed than she'd ever seen him. He wasn't someone used to physical affection.</p>
<p>But he didn't seem uncomfortable now, his arms gently pressing her closer to him. She leaned into it, trembling a bit at what a huge step this was for him—and that she was the one he took it with filled her with joy. By the time they let go, she knew she was blushing.</p>
<p>Harry was not, but his body language was unsure, and he smiled nervously at Hermione, as if he wasn't sure he'd done the right thing. She beamed at him to let him know that he had.</p>
<p>"This is really brilliant," Harry said, gesturing to her work. "Truly."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Hermione said, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "We should probably start learning spells right away."</p>
<p>"Right," Harry said, nodding, as Hermione gathered up her parchments to put them back in her bag.</p>
<p>"There you two are!" Ginny called. She was on the other side of the entrance hall with Luna, walking their way. Luna was carrying a large, bright red folder. "I ran into Luna in the Owlery and she mentioned you all were visiting the Kitchens. Do you mind if I join, too?"</p>
<p>"Not at all," Hermione said, and the four of them set off.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Dobby loved Luna. He loved the socks she gave him, burst into tears and an embarrassed grin when she called him "sir," and delighted at answering all of her questions about his travels in the two years before he came to Hogwarts.</p>
<p>"Dobby knew Harry Potter has great friends," Dobby declared, "and you is just as good as the rest, Miss Loony!"</p>
<p>Harry, Hermione and Ginny flinched at Dobby's choice of nickname, but Luna beamed at him.</p>
<p>"What's your favorite part of working here, Dobby?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Professor Dumbledore is a great man," Dobby declared. "And he trusts Dobby, he does, with important tasks. And he is kind to house elves, not like the Malfoys—"</p>
<p>And then, to Hermione's horror, Dobby cut himself off and started to bang his head on the floor. Harry jumped up and grabbed him, setting him right.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Harry Potter," Dobby said, looking up gratefully at Harry. "Sometimes Dobby forgets…"</p>
<p>He shook his head and passed a plate of desserts he'd procured to Harry.</p>
<p>"Where's Winky?' Hermione asked, glancing around. But Dobby's ears drooped and he pointed toward a fireplace, where Winky was sitting on a stool, covered in filth, clutching a bottle of butterbeer. She looked drunk.</p>
<p>"Winky is pining," Dobby whispered sadly. "Winky wants to go home. Winky still thinks Mr. Crouch is her master, miss, and nothing Dobby says will persuade her that Professor Dumbledore is her master now."</p>
<p>Hermione moved toward Winky and sat down next to her. "Winky?" she asked. "Are you alright?"</p>
<p>But Winky merely sobbed and drank another gulpful of butterbeer.</p>
<p>Ginny moved to the other side of Winky. "Winky, if you're so sad, why don't you go and see Mr. Crouch? It would make you feel better, and I bet it would make him feel better, too," Ginny said kindly. Hermione couldn't believe her ears.</p>
<p>Winky looked up at Ginny with wide eyes, but Hermione frowned.</p>
<p>"Master is ill?" Winky asked.</p>
<p>"No one has seen him since the first task," Harry said. "The <em>Daily Prophet </em>is saying he's ill."</p>
<p>"Master is needing his Winky!" she whimpered.</p>
<p>"There's no need to fret. You can just go see him," Ginny repeated.</p>
<p>"Why should she go see him, Ginny? He's the one who treated her abominably. He's the one who should be apologizing," Hermione insisted heatedly.</p>
<p>"But if she's so unhappy, and it will make her feel better, why not?" Ginny asked, confused.</p>
<p>Hermione was incensed. "Aren't you the one who told me that I shouldn't bother with people who treat me like dirt? Why should Winky? Because she's a house elf?" she asked, irritated.</p>
<p>Ginny's eyes widened at Hermione's vehemence, but Winky narrowed hers.</p>
<p>"Master is a good man!" she squeaked angrily. "Master always treated Winky well! It's not Master's fault Winky is a disgraced elf!"</p>
<p>"He's the one who should be disgraced—" Hermione argued.</p>
<p>"You is a bad miss!" Winky declared, getting off the stool, butterbeer in hand, and tottering away. The other house elves watched her with contempt.</p>
<p>They stood there silently for a moment before Ginny interrupted the silence.</p>
<p>"I didn't mean anything by it, Hermione—honest," she said, and Hermione nodded distractedly. She and Ginny didn't talk much about S.P.E.W., but she knew Ginny grew up in the same house as the rest of the Weasleys. And while Mr. Weasley had told her he thought the way house elves were treated was wrong, Mrs. Weasley saw nothing wrong with slavery, having told her children that she always wanted a house elf. And from everything Ron, Percy and the twins had said on the matter, the Weasley boys had all taken after their mum in that regard—she supposed she shouldn't be surprised that Ginny was no different.</p>
<p>At least she wasn't spouting nonsense like "But they like slavery!"</p>
<p>Luna turned to one of the other house elves. "I've got something for you all, too," she said.</p>
<p>The other house elves looked at her darkly. "We is good elves," one of them said, with a scornful look at Dobby. "We is not wanting socks, miss!"</p>
<p>"Oh, it's not socks," Luna said, pointing to her bright red folder. She opened it, and pulled out a beautiful drawing of the Great Hall filled with students eating a magnificent feast, and another of the library looking particularly tidy, and another of an expansive room in blue and bronze that Hermione figured must be the Ravenclaw common room. The drawings were detailed and intricate and incredibly lifelike. Luna had a gift.</p>
<p>The elves looked at the drawings happily.</p>
<p>"It's just that you all do so much hard work for us," Luna said earnestly, "and I wanted to show you how much we appreciate it. You're the ones who make Hogwarts look so beautiful, after all."</p>
<p>"Miss is very talented!" one of the elves declared. "We is hanging these, we is!" And she took the drawings to hang on the wall, while others surrounded Luna and guided her to a chair, offering her all manner of sweets and goodies.</p>
<p>"Thank you," Luna said, taking an éclair. "These are my favorite. Do you have a favorite?" She turned to one elf in particular, and to Hermione's shock, the elf—Geddy—actually gave Luna a straight answer—chocolate cake—instead of some crock about house elves only liking work.</p>
<p>Luna continued on like that for a while, drawing the elves in with questions that didn't irritate them. Hermione felt a flash of envy—she <em>wanted</em> to help the house elves, but everything she said just made them hate her more. She'd always been straightforward and direct, and while Luna usually was also—she was an exceedingly honest person—she had apparently learned the subtle art of patience that Hermione never quite mastered.</p>
<p>Luna asked about their favorite foods, and whether they'd always worked at Hogwarts, if they had to visit other wizarding institutions and homes during the course of their work, if they celebrated any holidays and how it felt when they were cooking or baking or doing laundry.</p>
<p>By the time they left the kitchens, Luna had succeeded in befriending a dozen of the house elves, and while they hadn't broached the topics of freedom or wages, Luna <em>had</em> gotten one or two of them to open up about the type of work they enjoyed. And perhaps that was a start. After all, if someone truly had a passion for baking, it <em>was</em> improving their life incrementally if they got to do that all the time instead of laundry or cooking.</p>
<p>It was nowhere near what Hermione wanted to do for them, which frustrated her immensely, but it was still more than she had been accomplishing before.</p>
<p>"I think the real problem is we just don't know much about how house elves became slaves in the first place," she declared, as they were walking back through the dungeons. "I've done all of this research, looked in every book the library has on the matter, but it seems no one has ever bothered to study it."</p>
<p>"I bet they have in the Department of Mysteries," Luna said. "But likely to see how wizards could increase their control over house elves."</p>
<p>Hermione snorted. "How much more control do they want?" she asked severely.</p>
<p>"But what does that matter?" Ginny asked. "We know how to free them—clothes."</p>
<p>"Except it doesn't seem to free them—not <em>really</em>," Hermione said, frustrated. At Ginny's confused look, she added, "Both Dobby and Winky are technically free, but Winky still wants to go back to Crouch, and Dobby couldn't help but punish himself when he started to badmouth the Malfoys—even though it's been two years. It's not just as simple as giving them clothes. There's something else at play here. I just don't know what."</p>
<p>"But then isn't it possible they just like being helpful and serving others? They're not human—No, don't get mad at me, let me finish," Ginny added hastily, when she saw Hermione open her mouth, an angry look on her face. "I'm not saying they're <em>less </em>than human, but maybe they just think differently than humans."</p>
<p>"But that doesn't explain Dobby," Hermione pointed out. "He <em>is</em> serving and being helpful—at Hogwarts. If that's all it was, he wouldn't feel the need to punish himself about the Malfoys."</p>
<p>"So maybe it has something to do with the original family that a house elf serves," Ginny suggested. "We <em>don't</em> know how it all got started. Maybe wizards didn't do anything in particular to earn loyalty from the elves. Maybe the house elves somehow need that bond with their original masters—and having it partly severed by the clothes they were given is why Winky is such a mess. She can't live properly without that bond."</p>
<p>"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snapped. That was the biggest crock she'd ever heard. But before she could elaborate, Harry jumped in.</p>
<p>"If the elves somehow needed the bond, Dobby would be a lot worse off," he pointed out. "You all didn't know him when he was still bound to the Malfoys. He's gotten loads better—not worse."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at Harry gratefully. His face was a mask of concentration, the way he got when he was puzzling through a particularly hard problem. He clearly wasn't just humoring her—he'd been thinking of the house elves' well-being, too.</p>
<p>But, of course he was, she thought. Harry had always been against house elf slavery, even before Hermione knew it existed. He'd always been the sort of person to care about others—it's why he'd waited to save everyone in that lake, wasn't it? She couldn't help but smile at him.</p>
<p>"Figuring out how this compulsion got started won't be easy," Luna said thoughtfully, interrupting Hermione's thoughts, and Hermione was shocked to discover she'd been staring at Harry.</p>
<p>"Maybe it's that," Harry offered. "Compulsion. Some sort of super-powered Imperius curse."</p>
<p>"One that affects descendants, too?" Hermione asked skeptically. She'd never read about anything like that before.</p>
<p>"Why not?" Luna asked. "There's plenty of magic out there that's been lost to time, and plenty that hasn't been discovered yet. Ancient wizards could have come up with a spell that no one wrote down."</p>
<p>"Or that they realized was too powerful to get in the wrong hands," Hermione said thoughtfully. "So they obliviated it from existence."</p>
<p>"It would explain why it affects Dobby and Winky differently, too," Harry said excitedly. "Just like the Imperius affects some people more than others. Dobby's able to throw it off better than most."</p>
<p>"That's true," Hermione said, feeling the usual energy she did whenever they started brainstorming. "Or it could be some sort of Unbreakable Vow."</p>
<p>"What's that?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"It's a spell you can perform between two people, one of whom promises to do something—and they need a bonder to bind the spell. There's an incantation that's fairly complex—it's usually done nonverbally by the bonder, making it even harder to get right—but the short version is that if they don't do what they vowed to do, they die," Hermione explained.</p>
<p>"Fred and George tried to get Ron to make one once," Ginny offered. "It wouldn't have worked properly. They were seven and didn't know the right incantation, but dad was furious anyway. George said that dad said that with magic like that, it's intent that matters. So even if they hadn't done the Unbreakable Vow properly, they could've done some sort of alternate version of it with unintended consequences."</p>
<p>"Like forcing all of your descendants into servitude instead of dying if the vow is broken," Luna said.</p>
<p>They were silent for a moment before Harry shrugged. "Or maybe it's just Stockholm Syndrome."</p>
<p>Ginny and Luna looked confused, but Hermione smiled faintly. "So what, we just have to get all of the house elves psychiatrists?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Does the wizarding world even <em>have</em> psychiatrists?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Hermione snuck a glance at Ginny, who had been possessed by a psychopath, and whose parents' solution was to take her on holiday to Egypt. <em>Probably not</em>.</p>
<p>"What's a psychiatrist?" Luna asked.</p>
<p>"Er—it's sort of like a mind healer, I suppose?" Harry said, looking at Hermione. She nodded. That was probably the easiest way to describe it.</p>
<p>"Well, this is great," Luna said, looking pleased. "Now we have a few theories to research!"</p>
<p>How they were going to research them was another matter entirely—the Hogwarts library had been tapped out as a resource on house elves.</p>
<p>They reached the staircase that would eventually lead to Ravenclaw Tower. Luna said her goodbyes, but Ginny decided to walk with her—Michael Corner had mentioned that he'd be studying in the common room today, and Ginny was determined to coax him out for a walk.</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione set off toward the Gryffindor side of the castle.</p>
<p>"Do you reckon Neville's had any luck with his banishing charm?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I hope so," Hermione replied. "I've never met someone who tries as hard as he does."</p>
<p>They turned left and Hermione felt herself slow—they were nearing the Potions corridor. She had no idea how she would face Snape in class this week—or for the next three years.</p>
<p>"We can circle back around if you want," Harry said. That would take a little longer, but at least she wouldn't have to walk by Snape's office.</p>
<p>"No," Hermione shook her head. "This is our school. I'm not going to let him take any part of it from me."</p>
<p>They continued on, walking a bit faster now.</p>
<p>"Still," Harry said, "Potions is going to be a nightmare—not that it wasn't already. I reckon it'd be better if we just skived off the rest of the year and you taught us Potions."</p>
<p>Hermione's jaw dropped. "We need a proper teacher, Harry," she insisted.</p>
<p>Harry grinned. "Yes, well, you brewed a polyjuice when we were only second years," he reasoned. "I'm pretty sure you could handle teaching us fourth-year potions without Snape's ever-so-helpful teaching method of writing the instructions that are already in the book on the board, and flapping about the classroom insulting us."</p>
<p>Hermione grinned, felt joy bubbling up at his compliment, but then she heard a sound coming from Snape's office and her heart seized. She grabbed Harry, pulling him into a nook that housed a suit of armor.</p>
<p>Okay, so she wasn't going to let Snape ruin her school experience, but that didn't mean she wanted to run into him just yet.</p>
<p>They were cramped in a small space, wedged between the walls and the knight. She could feel Harry's breath in her ear, the way his hand had clasped her waist to still her. Her heart was racing—was his running as fast as hers?—and she found herself very aware of how close they were.</p>
<p>They stood perfectly still as they heard the door scrape closed and footsteps walk away. Only, they weren't normal footsteps—there was a decided repetitive clunk. Harry looked at Hermione, his brow furrowed, before leaning back to spot who was walking down the corridor.</p>
<p>"It's Moody," he mouthed, still looking perplexed. They waited for the footsteps to fade, and then backed out of the nook.</p>
<p>"What's Moody doing in Snape's office?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Harry said. "Maybe he was searching it? Everyone says he's always looking for dark wizards and—well—Snape was one."</p>
<p>"Maybe," Hermione conceded. "Wonder if he found anything."</p>
<p>"Hopefully," Harry said darkly, looking around. "Regardless, we'd better get out of here before Snape comes round and accuses me of stealing boomslang skin from his office again."</p>
<p>He started to walk, but Hermione stood rooted to the spot. "He accused you of stealing boomslang skin?" she asked sharply.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry said, confused at her reaction. "In Potions that day. You were there, looking for the fluxweed."</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head slowly. "I heard him accuse you, but he didn't mention any ingredients while I was near you," she told him. "You're sure he said boomslang skin?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry insisted. "Why?"</p>
<p>It <em>couldn't</em> be, Hermione thought. And yet… it all fit in a sickening sort of way didn't it? Boomslang skin, bicorn horn, fluxweed—and someone had put Harry's name in the goblet of fire.</p>
<p>"Because boomslang skin isn't used in very many potions," Hermione answered. "And we saw Moody buying it <em>and</em> a bicorn horn in Hogsmeade."</p>
<p>"So what's it used to make?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Polyjuice," Hermione answered shakily. "And Snape must have thought so too because he noticed how big of a supply of fluxweed you had—and that's another ingredient."</p>
<p>"So you think Moody is making polyjuice to impersonate someone else?" Harry asked. "But why?"</p>
<p>Hermione felt her heart pounding in her chest.</p>
<p>"We've been saying all along that someone put your name in the goblet of fire. And it's not like there are a whole lot of suspects—anyone who's new to the school and—"</p>
<p>"Snape," Harry supplied.</p>
<p>"Well, Moody is new to the school, isn't he?" she asked. "I don't think he's impersonating anyone. I think someone might be impersonating <em>him</em>."</p>
<p>She looked intensely at Harry, watched as the pieces fell into place, as realization dawned in Harry's eyes. She could practically see the weight of what they'd discovered pressing down on him. And then his eyes narrowed and his brow furrowed.</p>
<p>"The disturbance at Moody's the night before Hogwarts," he said. "Mr. Weasley had to go and sort it out—what if it really was an attack?"</p>
<p>And just like that, it was clear. The certainty of what must have happened filled her. Someone was impersonating Moody, had been for months. They were likely the person who put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire.</p>
<p>"But who?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>Harry's eyes lit up. "The map!" he said, and took off at a dead run for Gryffindor Tower, Hermione on his heels. The map was able to see past animagi—maybe it could see past polyjuice, too.</p>
<p>They raced up the stairs, past Sir Cadogan looking for a fight, and through the Fat Friar—a decidedly unpleasant experience—before flinging open the portrait hole to the relatively quiet common room. It was a beautiful day out, and a lot of people were taking advantage.</p>
<p>They sped up the stairs, and Harry threw open his trunk, muttering the incantation at the map. They sat on his bed, watching the map come to life, words and blueprints scrawling across the page. Hermione's eyes searched for Moody's office—</p>
<p>"What in Merlin?" she asked.</p>
<p>There, in neat black print, was the name Bartemius Crouch.</p>
<p>"That's not possible," Harry said.</p>
<p>"No one's seen him since November," Hermione reasoned. "Maybe we got the timing wrong. Maybe Crouch has only been impersonating Moody since then. Maybe this has nothing to do with the goblet of fire."</p>
<p>"But why?" Harry asked, standing up and pacing. "And if he took Moody's place in November, he must have done it here at Hogwarts. How could something like that happen without someone noticing—not even a painting?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," Hermione said. "But Mr. Crouch couldn't have been here at Hogwarts since September. Too many people saw him at the Ministry."</p>
<p>"And they were both at the first task," Harry agreed. "Moody was waiting for me with Hagrid and McGonagall when Crouch was doing the scoring."</p>
<p>"So it wasn't Mr. Crouch who put your name in the goblet of fire," she said.</p>
<p>Hermione felt relief and weariness at the same time. The man entrusted to teach them Defense Against the Dark Arts hadn't been the one to try to murder Harry after all—but that person was still out there somewhere, and now they had this new mystery of what Crouch was doing to figure out.</p>
<p>Yeah," Harry said, scratching the back of his head, looking exasperated, "except your theory is a good one. Moody would be the perfect person to impersonate if you wanted to infiltrate Hogwarts. And what does Mr. Crouch have to gain from impersonating him now?"</p>
<p>"I don't know, but he is," Hermione said. "The map's never lied."</p>
<p>Harry picked up the map again, staring at it intently, like it would somehow reveal its answers to him.</p>
<p>"Unless he's not," he said shakily.</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>"Hermione, the map only says Bartemius Crouch," Harry explained. "It doesn't say anything about Bartemius Crouch <em>Sr.</em>"</p>
<p>Hermione blinked. "But the only other Bartemius Crouch was—"</p>
<p>"Barty Crouch Jr.," Harry finished for her, and Hermione found herself staring at Neville's empty bed, where he had sat and told them about Crouch's son, what he'd done and how he died.</p>
<p>"Harry, he's dead," Hermione said softly.</p>
<p>Harry looked up at her, his eyes glittering with anger and determination and resolve. "So is Peter Pettigrew," he said.</p>
<p>Could it be? Was it possible that Sirius hadn't been the first prisoner to escape Azkaban somehow? But Crouch had died in prison—there'd been a record of it.</p>
<p>"But how?" Hermione whispered.</p>
<p>Harry shook his head, looking down at the map again. "I don't know," he said. "But if we've learned anything by now, it's that things you think are impossible usually aren't."</p>
<p>Hermione stood up to stand next to him, looking down at the name: Bartemius Crouch. She wasn't someone who believed in impossible—even in a world where magic existed, there had to be rules—but if there was even a chance this was true, they had to tell someone right away.</p>
<p>And then she felt Harry's sharp intake of breath, saw his hand shake, and instantly knew why. There, walking toward Moody's office, was another name printed in clear, bold letters: Neville Longbottom.</p>
<p>He had said he would stop by Moody's office for her—and if she and Harry were right, he was about to step alone into a room with the man who had tortured his parents to insanity.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry stared at the map in horror: The neat, clear lettering of Neville's name was visible in Moody's office with Bartemius Crouch.</p>
<p>Before he could think about it, he let the map flutter to his bed, already racing out the door and down the steps. So clear was his need to get to his friend, to save him, he didn't even hear Hermione calling after him. It was a gut reaction, an impulse: See a friend in trouble, see a threat, do something.</p>
<p>He'd just reached the portrait hole, steps away from clambering out, when he felt fingers curl around his wrist.</p>
<p>"Harry, hold on," Hermione pleaded frantically. "Listen to me for a second!"</p>
<p>Harry turned to look at her. Her eyes were fearful and she was clutching his wrist in a vicelike grip that would give a devil's snare a run for its money.</p>
<p>"We need to help Neville!" Harry insisted. "We don't have time for this!"</p>
<p>"I'm worried about Neville, too!" she cried. "But we have to be smart about this."</p>
<p>"Hermione, he's in there with the Death Eater who tortured his parents!" Harry responded heatedly. Why were they even still talking about this?</p>
<p>"I know," she said quickly, "I <em>know</em>. But, Harry, he's been in there alone with Moody before—so have you! I don't know what Crouch's plan is, but it clearly doesn't involve attacking anyone just yet. He's worked hard to blend in here. He won't just throw all that away to attack Neville."</p>
<p>"So you think we should just leave Neville in there?"</p>
<p>"I think that's safest," Hermione said urgently. "I don't like it any more than you do, but this isn't like the Shrieking Shack when we thought Ron was in immediate danger. Crouch's target isn't Neville—it's <em>you</em>. He's not going to give himself away by attacking Neville now, not when he could've done that at any time this whole year."</p>
<p>Harry let out a breath. When he actually took a beat to consider the situation, he could see she had a point. And yet, he still didn't like it; he wasn't someone used to standing back and doing nothing.</p>
<p>Sensing that she was getting through to him, Hermione added, "If we let things play out, Neville will leave that office soon enough, unharmed. But if we go racing in there, alerting Crouch to the fact that we're on to him, who knows what he'll do."</p>
<p>Though she was confident in her words, he could tell by the slight shake in the hand that still wouldn't let go of his wrist that she was clearly worried, too.</p>
<p>Her eyes searched his, and he could read a thousand emotions in hers—fear, desperation, anxiety, love, compassion, and underneath it all was her relentless levelheadedness, that shrewd, logical nature of hers that had saved his life time and again.</p>
<p>She had always backed him, even when she thought he was being foolish and impulsive. If he ran into that office right now, he had no doubt that she'd be standing by his side, and then he'd be putting both of his best friends in danger.</p>
<p>"Harry, please," she repeated forcefully.</p>
<p>He let out a breath. She was right. Logically speaking, Crouch <em>wasn't </em>going to attack Neville unless someone gave him a reason to. And yet, nothing about doing nothing felt right to him. Neville was his friend, and standing back felt like abandoning him.</p>
<p>"We can't just sit here and wait," Harry said, and he felt Hermione's hold on his wrist lessen as he spoke.</p>
<p>"We won't," Hermione replied. "We'll—we'll go find Professor Dumbledore. So he can be ready to do whatever he has to as soon as Crouch is alone."</p>
<p>It was a good plan. Harry nodded at her, and Hermione summoned the map from where he'd left it atop his bed. When she caught it, he mentally berated himself for not even bothering to wipe it clean before he'd left.</p>
<p>Dumbledore wasn't in his office, and after what felt like hours of searching later, he couldn't be found anywhere in the castle either.</p>
<p>"Maybe he left?" Hermione suggested. "Or he's in Hogsmeade?"</p>
<p>"There!" Harry said, pointing to Hagrid's hut. Clear as day were the names Rubeus Hagrid and Albus Dumbledore, appearing quite still. They were probably sitting down at Hagrid's table.</p>
<p>"That's perfect!" Hermione said. "We can tell him without worrying anyone will be listening in."</p>
<p>They checked the map for anyone who could get in their way—Crouch was still in his office with Neville, Mrs. Norris was skulking around on the fourth floor, Filch was in the staff room, and Peeves was bouncing around near Ravenclaw Tower.</p>
<p>"We should take the stairs by the trophy room when we head down to the second floor—they're furthest from Moody's office," Harry said. Hermione nodded.</p>
<p>Harry wiped the map clean, and tucked it into his pocket.</p>
<p>They hurried down a couple of staircases, then reached a dead end—the stairs had a pesky habit of moving—so they raced down the corridor that housed the prefects' bathroom, past several bored and sleepy portraits—they didn't get very many visitors down these corridors on Sundays. They ran around corners, through tapestries, up a flight of stairs just to go back down another, through a secret passageway that enabled them to bypass Mrs. Norris, down two more flights and through the trophy room and down another two flights. They had reached the marble staircase, and Harry could see sunshine streaming into the entrance hall from the open oak doors—they were almost there. Just one more flight, across the foyer, and they'd be out on the grounds, on their way to Hagrid's hut.</p>
<p>He took the last of the stairs and then skidded to a halt.</p>
<p>There, standing 10 feet in front of him, were Neville and Crouch, still wearing Professor Moody's face.</p>
<p>He felt Hermione jerk to a stop next to him, heard her slight intake of breath, but didn't dare look at her for fear they'd give themselves away.</p>
<p>Crouch smiled broadly, walking over to meet them, Neville in tow.</p>
<p>"I was just having a chat with Longbottom," he said. "He told me you've got some wounds that need looking at, Granger. I told him I couldn't give him anything for you unless I saw your hand, so we came to find you."</p>
<p>"Down here?" Harry asked skeptically.</p>
<p>"He said you'd been down in the kitchens," Crouch answered. "Now, let's have a look."</p>
<p>He gestured to Hermione to raise her hand, and Hermione did, trying to act as normal as possible. Harry could see her hand shaking slightly. So could Crouch.</p>
<p>"Just hurts a bit still," she said by way of explanation, offering Crouch a tremulous smile. Harry relaxed slightly beside her—she always had been good at coming up with lies that sounded like reasonable explanations.</p>
<p>Crouch studied her hand and then nodded.</p>
<p>"Come along to my office," he said. "I've got just the thing."</p>
<p>"Oh, honestly, Professor, it's not that bad," Hermione protested. "Madam Pomfrey said the ointment she gave me just takes a little while to work."</p>
<p>"Even still, you should take care of it now," he insisted.</p>
<p>"Thank you, but we actually need to get out to Hagrid's," Hermione replied. "He's expecting us."</p>
<p>"Oh?" Crouch looked surprised. "He usually dines with Professor Dumbledore this time on Sundays."</p>
<p>Harry felt his stomach drop. It had been a good lie—letting Crouch know an adult would come looking for them if they didn't turn up—if only Dumbledore didn't have a standing invitation to Hagrid's.</p>
<p>"You can come have tea with me, and I'll look at your hand. I insist," Crouch said, and there was a menacing undertone that sent a chill down Harry's spine. But it was impossible. How could he possibly know?</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione glanced at each other, and then Harry took a closer look at Neville. He hadn't said anything yet, not even hello, which was strange for him. What was wrong with him?</p>
<p>Harry slid his hand into his pocket, feeling for his wand, but before he could do anything, Moody twirled his own wand in Hermione's direction and she gave a little jolt.</p>
<p>"Yes, tea sounds lovely," she said, a bright smile on her face.</p>
<p>And Harry knew exactly what was wrong with Neville—and now with Hermione. With sickening certainty, he knew that his best friends were under the Imperius curse.</p>
<p>Moody grinned at Harry once again. "What do you say, Potter?" he asked quietly. "Will you come along with us to my office, or shall I have a private discussion with your friends?"</p>
<p>Harry weighed his options. Just outside the oak doors, the courtyard was teeming with students, and so was the Great Hall, not 20 feet away—but who would believe him? And what would Crouch do to the other students if they tried to stop him? And if he didn't go with Crouch, if he managed to escape, what would Crouch do to Hermione and Neville?</p>
<p>His heart was beating faster as he remembered Crouch's words when he taught them about the Imperius Curse those many months ago: "I could make it jump out of the window, drown itself…"</p>
<p>Harry felt his insides rebelling at the thought. It was Harry that Crouch wanted. He couldn't abandon his friends now, and yet going with Crouch wasn't a smart play either.</p>
<p>He couldn't think, couldn't move, searching for something to help them, and it came in the unlikeliest form: Out of the Great Hall walked the Weasley twins. George was whistling a jaunty tune, and Fred was holding a giant cake that they must've nicked off the Gryffindor table. They looked happy and carefree and completely at odds with Harry's current predicament.</p>
<p>"Oi, Harry!" Fred called. "Fancy a—" He saw Professor Moody and cut himself off. "I swear, Professor, we have no plans to do anything with this cake but eat it."</p>
<p>"And if you should happen to hear about a certain Slytherin git getting a cake thrown in his face later on, I can promise you it has nothing to do with this here cake," George added. "Definitely some <em>other</em> cake."</p>
<p>Moody looked at them impassively. "Carry on then, boys," he said, and Fred and George saw nothing amiss with that. This was, after all, the man who turned Malfoy into a ferret.</p>
<p>But Fred and George <em>were </em>frowning at Hermione.</p>
<p>"Nothing to say, Hermione?" George asked.</p>
<p>"Where's your ever-present look of disdain and disapproval?" Fred asked.</p>
<p>"Actually brother, I'm pretty sure her patented display of dismay and disgust is only present when we're around," George whispered.</p>
<p>"Well, we're <em>around</em>, aren't we?" Fred responded.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head disapprovingly, and Harry knew it had been a command from Crouch.</p>
<p>"There it is," George smiled. "I almost thought there was something wrong."</p>
<p>Crouch turned to Harry. "Are you coming, Potter?" he asked, his eyes boring into Harry's.</p>
<p>And then something clicked for Harry. Any other Death Eater would've killed Harry months ago—or done something to him right here. Crouch may have put his name in the goblet of fire, but he also helped him with the first task. Whatever this plan was, it didn't involve killing Harry just yet, which gave him something he desperately needed—time.</p>
<p>And just like that, Harry had a plan. Telling Fred and George was risky—Crouch could have them under the Imperius before Harry even got the words out—but Harry didn't need to speak to tell the twins anything.</p>
<p>"Yeah," he said, "tea in your office sounds great."</p>
<p>He moved forward, pushing between Neville and Fred in a way that made Fred lose his balance and drop the cake. Harry hoped it looked accidental to Crouch, like he was so nervous about the circumstances that he just couldn't help it, and as the cake smashed into pieces on the ground, Harry slipped the map out of his pocket and down onto the demolished cake. He turned his body, so Crouch couldn't see it, hoping he wasn't looking at the floor with his magical eye.</p>
<p>"Harry!" Fred admonished.</p>
<p>"Sorry," Harry said.</p>
<p>He looked at Fred, caught his eyes, and then looked down at the cake significantly, making sure not to move his head so Crouch wouldn't get suspicious. Fred and George flicked their eyes down imperceptibly with the practiced ease of two troublemakers who were used to avoiding the watchful gaze of authority figures. They looked up at Harry questioningly, and he gave them a slight nod before turning to Crouch.</p>
<p>"Let's go," he said, with as much steel in his voice as he could muster.</p>
<p>Crouch looked back at Fred and George suspiciously, but they were each holding a handful of cake, threatening to hit the other with it. The map had vanished out of sight.</p>
<p>The walk up to the second floor and to Moody's office sped by, even as Harry desperately hoped to delay them as much as possible. He hoped he hadn't miscalculated—that Crouch wouldn't decide to chuck the whole plan the moment he got Harry alone, away from the prying eyes of the paintings. He slid his hand into his pocket and grasped his wand, weighing the merits of attacking Crouch now. But he wasn't a match for a Death Eater, especially one who had total control over his two best friends—he knew that. What he needed was reinforcements.</p>
<p>It was all down to Fred and George. If they looked at the map, they'd probably think it was Barty Crouch Sr.—but they'd have to at least be suspicious about that, and Harry hoped with everything he had that they would go and get a teacher.</p>
<p>It wasn't in Fred and George's nature to do that, but it was all he had. Until then, he just had to keep Crouch talking, keep him from doing whatever he was planning to do, keep his friends alive and safe.</p>
<p>Each portrait they passed—three ladies having tea, a man walking a dog down a country lane, a court jester performing for a crowd—all seemed to be looking at him with pity, as if they knew Harry was walking toward his doom.</p>
<p>Hermione and Neville entered the office, and Crouch gestured for Harry to follow. To the left was Moody's desk—piled high with dark detectors—behind which sat a bookcase filled with books about Defense Against the Dark Arts. In the corner stood a trunk.</p>
<p>To the right was a small sitting area—and Harry felt sickened when Neville and Hermione sat down in a couple of armchairs, helping themselves to tea like this was a perfectly normal, ordinary Sunday.</p>
<p>Across from Harry, Moody's foe-glass hung on the wall, indistinct, shadowy figures moving around in it. Harry briefly closed his eyes, berating himself once again. He had completely forgotten about the foe-glass. He wasn't exactly sure how they worked, but that must be how Crouch had found out.</p>
<p>He turned around and heard a faint—yet deafening—click. The door had been magically sealed.</p>
<p>Crouch leaned back, studying him. "You know what my favorite dark detector is, Potter? My foe-glass. You see, a foe-glass isn't like a sneakoscope, which goes off every time someone lies, even if that lie is harmless. A foe-glass doesn't just show you someone who dislikes you—it shows you someone intent on doing you bodily harm, someone who poses a threat," he explained. "A trained wizard can hide himself from a foe-glass, so that he only shows up in it when he's right outside your door. But that requires practice, discipline, the ability to control your emotions. Which means occasionally, the foe-glass can pick up enemies from further distances—like across an entire castle, perhaps—if that enemy isn't shielding his emotions and poses a big enough threat."</p>
<p>And then he confirmed what Harry already suspected.</p>
<p>"Not long after Longbottom got here, your face popped up," Crouch said. "And there's only one reason why you'd show up in my foe-glass, Potter. If you somehow found out my secret."</p>
<p>He looked at Harry curiously. "How <em>did</em> you find out?"</p>
<p>Harry needed to keep him talking, needed to get his eyes away from the foe-glass, so he wouldn't be alerted to help when Fred and George got it.</p>
<p>"What does it matter?" Harry asked, as he edged toward the desk.</p>
<p>"I can just ask Granger," Crouch replied. "She's quite agreeable right now."</p>
<p>Anger churned inside Harry. "She can fight it off," he insisted. "She's stronger than you think."</p>
<p>Crouch's face looked hollow, his eyes haunted, like he was reliving a bad memory.</p>
<p>"It can take even the strongest wizards years to fight against the Imperius when the person who cursed you knows what they're doing," he said.</p>
<p>"<em>I</em> didn't find it that difficult," Harry retorted, earning a look of pure rage from Crouch. Harry inched to the other side of the desk, forcing Crouch to turn away from the foe-glass.</p>
<p>"How did you find out?" Crouch asked again.</p>
<p>A different tack then.</p>
<p>"Snape accused me of stealing boomslang skin," he said. "And we saw you buying it. And then we saw you in Snape's office."</p>
<p>"Snape," Crouch sneered, pure venom in his voice. "There's nothing I hate more than a Death Eater who walks free." His mouth was curled into a grimace, his eyes hard, and Harry thought perhaps it was the truest thing this man had ever told him.</p>
<p>"Did you know him?" Harry asked. "Back in your Death Eater days?"</p>
<p>Crouch snorted derisively. "Don't think you can distract me from my goal, Potter," he said. "This may have put a kink in my plans—"</p>
<p>"A kink?" Harry asked incredulously. "Voldemort wanted you to put my name in the goblet of fire, to get close to me. That's going to be pretty hard to do, what with me knowing you're a Death Eater and all. Puts a bit of a damper on any student/teacher bonding you've got planned."</p>
<p>Crouch's nostrils flared. "How <em>dare</em> you say the Dark Lord's name," he hissed, advancing on Harry menacingly.</p>
<p>Harry noticed he didn't exactly deny being in league with Voldemort.</p>
<p>"Why did you put my name in the goblet of fire? And then why'd you go and help me with the first task?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Crouch smiled faintly. "The Dark Lord's plans aren't for you to know," he said.</p>
<p>"If you were going to kill me, you'd have done it already," Harry said. "Voldemort wants something else, doesn't he?"</p>
<p>Crouch narrowed his eyes. "You're not as dumb as your house suggests," he said. "But it's no matter—this is nothing a memory charm won't fix."</p>
<p>"Obliviate!" Crouch shouted at the same time Harry countered with "Impedimenta!" and jumped down behind the desk. He heard dark detectors skitter off of it from the combined impact of their spells.</p>
<p>Harry heard Crouch moving around the desk, and he scrambled to the other side.</p>
<p>"Stupefy!" Crouch yelled, and Harry barely managed to deflect it as he was thrown backwards, crashing into the table that held Neville and Hermione's tea kettle. They looked at him blankly as he rolled off the now broken table and behind the love seat across from them, no hint that they even noticed the mess.</p>
<p>Harry had a brief image of the Dursleys' neighbor, a little girl named Gemma, who often had tea parties with her teddies in the yard, and the thought of comparing his friends to those stuffed animals—playthings—sickened him.</p>
<p>Crouch advanced on Harry with grace and ease—he was more powerful than Harry, more practiced than him, knew more spells than he did, and as Harry tried to hold off his attacks, Crouch deflected his spells effortlessly. The only thing saving Harry was the fact that Crouch didn't seem to want to hurt him—Obliviate, Stupefy, Petrificus Totalus, Rope-Binding spells… all designed to capture, not kill.</p>
<p>Why didn't Voldemort want Crouch to hurt him? What was his master plan?</p>
<p>Harry needed to get Crouch off balance.</p>
<p>"Incendio!" Harry shouted, and Moody's wooden leg burst into flames. He doused it with water, but it was too late—most of the wooden leg was gone and he was limping even more now, unable to fully support his weight on one side. Harry hit him with a knockback jinx that sent him smashing into his desk.</p>
<p>And still, Neville and Hermione sat, drinking their tea. Harry looked at Hermione—tried to will her to snap out of it—but it was hopeless. The only thing that could break an Imperius was Crouch lifting it, Crouch dying or Hermione's strength of will breaking it herself.</p>
<p>Harry looked at the foe-glass—the shadows looked a bit more defined, but maybe that was just his imagination.</p>
<p>Crouch hobbled up on his good leg, and let out a cry of frustration. "Reducto!" he cried, exploding the love seat in front of Harry. Harry felt shards of its frame pierce his skin as he covered his face from the debris.</p>
<p>Crouch sent a shot of yellow light at Harry, and he crashed into the wall behind him. His head snapped back painfully, and his wand rolled from his hand on the impact. He struggled to get up—could feel pain in his ankle and felt blood dripping down his head.</p>
<p>Crouch conjured up a walking stick and advanced on him, laughing cruelly, wand raised, as Harry fought desperately to reach his wand—he needed help, needed <em>something—</em>but while his fingers were achingly close, the wand remained just out of reach.</p>
<p>"Obliviate!" Crouch yelled, but his wasn't the only voice Harry heard.</p>
<p>Hermione was standing, her wand straight out, her eyes focused on Crouch as she aimed a hex-deflection spell at Crouch's Obliviate, knocking it off course. Harry felt his heart soar—she'd fought off the Imperius!</p>
<p>She looked at Harry, relief and fear evident in her eyes, her intelligent brown eyes that no longer bore the docile look of someone controlled, and Harry smiled at her, feeling renewed vigor for the fight.</p>
<p>Harry stood up. He might not know spells that were designed to kill, but he did know spells that could slow Crouch down—Expelliarmus, Petificus Totalus, Locomotor Mortis, Furnunculus, Rictumsempra—Harry tried anything that could hold him off, that could give Fred and George time.</p>
<p>He felt Hermione move beside him, adding her wand to the effort. But even with her added skill, they were shouting curses that Moody waved away effortlessly—he was used to this sort of prolonged battle and they were not.</p>
<p>The room had been destroyed. Torn books were strewn across the floor, dark detectors littered the ground and almost all of the furniture was smashed up. Inexplicably, the foe-glass remained on the wall—Crouch must've used the strongest sticking spell out there for it.</p>
<p>Harry felt more cuts and bruises, a painful slash on his back. Hermione had a nasty gash on her arm and a split lip.</p>
<p>Crouch looked at them coolly. "Enough of this," he sneered. "Stop resisting me or…"</p>
<p>He trailed off, looking pointedly at Neville. Their friend stood up, dropping his teacup to the ground where it smashed with a comically silent tinkle considering the noise they'd just been making. He started walking toward the window.</p>
<p>"Oh!" Hermione cried, and Harry heard those words once again—"I could make it jump out of the window"—and without hesitation, Harry hit Neville with a banishing charm that hurtled him across the room, smashing into the wall. There was blood gushing from a cut on his head; he was dazed—had possibly been knocked unconscious.</p>
<p>Harry let out a shaky breath—better knocked out than dead. Somehow, Harry doubted that Neville's accidental magic would save him when he was under the Imperius Curse the way it saved him when his Uncle Algie accidentally dropped him out a window.</p>
<p>The window! The courtyard below was filled with people, and if Fred and George hadn't figured out his clues, maybe someone else could. With a surge of inspiration, he aimed a banishing charm at some of the broken furniture. It flew out the window, the glass shards twinkling in the sunlight as the entire mess fell to the ground. Surely, someone would come investigate <em>that</em>.</p>
<p>Catching on, Hermione cast a spell that let out a piercing, persistent wail. Harry covered his ears—saw that the others had, too—and he sent up a silent prayer that someone would hear the noise.</p>
<p>Harry glanced back at the foe-glass—and saw Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid! Elation ran through him— all they had to do was hold him off long enough for the cavalry to arrive.</p>
<p>Crouch's head followed Harry's gaze and when he saw Dumbledore's face staring back at him, his own face twisted in fury. Before Harry realized what was happening, a nonverbal spell knocked him and Hermione back painfully.</p>
<p>Gripping the floor, Harry struggled to get up, raising his wand once more at the grizzled man—only he was no longer grizzled. His hair was shorter and turning fair, his scars were disappearing, and with a clunk, the charred remains of his wooden leg fell to the floor and a flesh-and-blood one regrew in its place. The magical eye popped out and rolled across the floor, as a real one replaced it in his eye socket.</p>
<p>Harry heard a strangled sort of sound next to him, and glanced over to see that Neville, now fully awake, had managed to claw his way up the wall, half standing now. No longer was there the placid expression of someone who'd been Imperiused on his face. He was transfixed, his face awash in terror and hatred and anger, as he recognized the man standing in front of them as the one who had tortured his parents.</p>
<p>"Y-you!" Neville gasped.</p>
<p>Crouch smiled cruelly at Neville, laughing pitilessly, and Neville, forgetting all pretense that he was a wizard, rushed forward, tackling Crouch to the ground.</p>
<p>Seeing their opportunity, Harry used the disarming charm on Crouch, successfully grabbing his wand, while Hermione shouted "Alohomora!" at the door. They rushed forward, intending to grab Neville and run, but Crouch snatched Neville's wand from his hand and shot a burst of purple light at Neville. Harry vaguely heard Hermione's scream—she was standing next to him, yet seemed far away—but far louder was the sickening thud as Neville fell to the ground.</p>
<p>And then Crouch looked at Harry and Hermione, and Harry knew exactly what spell he would use next. Crouch had been playing with them, but Albus Dumbledore, the only wizard Voldemort ever feared, was on his way. Harry and Hermione were standing between him and the door, and there wasn't time left for games.</p>
<p>Harry could see it in Crouch's eyes. After all, that's what Crouch had been trying to teach them in their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson this year, wasn't it? How to know when you're about to be hit with the Killing Curse.</p>
<p>Did Hermione see it, too?</p>
<p>There was no defense against it, no way to protect yourself. Harry had survived once because of his mother's sacrifice, but that wouldn't save him now. And yet, Harry knew with total certainty that this Killing Curse wasn't meant for him. Crouch had put his name in the goblet of fire for a reason. Even now, he hadn't attacked Harry with lethal force. Whatever Voldemort's plan was, he didn't want Harry dead yet—and Crouch had followed that plan this entire duel.</p>
<p>Dumbledore and Hagrid were looming larger in the foe-glass, but Harry doubted they'd be in time to stop it.</p>
<p>Harry saw Crouch raise his wand, a maniacal gleam in his eyes. Harry didn't have time to think, could only move purely on instinct—and he rushed toward Hermione, pushing her to the ground. His vision was obscured by a sea of dark curls as they fell painfully to the ground together.</p>
<p>Harry was vaguely aware of the sound of the door crashing open at the same time a cold, cruel voice shouted "Avada Kedavra!"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sound of the Killing Curse filled the air, but then there was nothing. Hermione could feel pain in her left side from where she had slammed into the floor, and she could feel Harry's fingers digging into her, and the slight rise and fall of his chest, and she was filled with relief because that meant he was alive.</p>
<p>But there were no curses, no shouts, no sounds or smells of dueling. She heard only the swishing of robes and, unbelievably, the chirping of birds outside the window.</p>
<p>And then—</p>
<p>"Harry!" Hagrid yelled, and she felt Harry being swept up and away from her forcefully, before she, too, was enveloped by the groundskeeper. "Harry, are yeh all righ'?"</p>
<p>"M'fine," he tried to say, but the sound was muffled because Hagrid was clutching them both tightly to his chest.</p>
<p>"Hermione?" Hagrid asked.</p>
<p>She tried to speak, but couldn't, so she nodded her head. Hagrid set them on the ground but held onto them, and Hermione was glad because now that it was all over, she felt shaky and lightheaded and realized just how much pain had been inflicted from the battle. She wasn't sure she could stand without Hagrid's help.</p>
<p>She blinked as she looked around. Crouch was lying on the ground, his face fixed in a look that she could only describe as maniacal glee, Neville's wand still clasped firmly in his hand. He was very dead. She heard herself whimper.</p>
<p>Her eyes sought Harry's—needed the visual confirmation that he was okay—and the way Harry was looking at her—so intense, so acutely aware of her reactions—was something else. He looked concerned, and Hermione guessed maybe she looked a bit wild-eyed. She felt wild-eyed.</p>
<p>"Neville?" Harry asked, turning to Dumbledore.</p>
<p>Dumbledore was kneeling over Neville, his face grim and resolute.</p>
<p>"He's alive," Dumbledore said shortly, and Hermione nearly burst into tears from relief.</p>
<p>There was a swishing of robes behind them and a squeak, and then Professor Flitwick appeared. "Albus, I heard the ruckus—what happened?" he asked.</p>
<p>Dumbledore turned to Harry and Hermione. "Do you know what spell was used on him?"</p>
<p>Harry shook his head. "He didn't say an incantation," he answered. "But there was a purple light."</p>
<p>Dumbledore and Flitwick exchanged a grave look. "I'll take him to Poppy," Flitwick said, levitating Neville and ushering him out of the room.</p>
<p>"These two should get to the hospital wing, too," Hagrid said.</p>
<p>"I'd like to speak to them first," Dumbledore disagreed, and his tone left no room for discussion. Hermione got the feeling that he didn't want them in the hospital wing when Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick were working on Neville.</p>
<p>Hagrid hesitated, looking at Crouch, and then looked down at Harry and Hermione. "I can stay with the body, if yeh wanna take 'em to another room," he said.</p>
<p>Dumbledore nodded, and looked at his watch. "Fred and George Weasley will have gotten to Minerva by now, so she should be along shortly," he said. "Tell her to search the room." He then turned to Harry and Hermione. "Come with me."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't really want to move—didn't want to do anything. Her head hurt painfully, and she felt disoriented. But, after Hagrid finally released them—despite the fact that them leaving had been his idea, he didn't seem to want to let go—she shuffled out after Dumbledore and a limping Harry anyway.</p>
<p>Luckily, they didn't go far. Dumbledore took them to an empty classroom, then conjured up three armchairs that they could collapse into. Dumbledore eyed them carefully before wordlessly taking care of the worst of their injuries.</p>
<p>Still, Hermione felt fuzzy, wishing only to know that Neville was okay and then to sleep for a week. She didn't want to relive what had just happened—didn't understand much of it herself. She had been Imperiused and half of the afternoon consisted only of fragments of memories, like she had pieces from two different puzzles and she was trying to jam them together to make a whole.</p>
<p>"I know that the last thing you want to do is talk about this," Dumbledore said with a kind expression on his face. "But the sooner we know what happened, the better."</p>
<p>And so Harry told the whole story—how they'd seen Moody coming out of Snape's office, how Snape had accused Harry of stealing the boomslang skin, seeing Moody buying that in Hogsmeade, and so they'd theorized that he had been the one to put Harry's name in the goblet of fire. He told Dumbledore about the map showing them Barty Crouch's name.</p>
<p>"We were coming to get you," Harry said, "but Crouch already knew that we knew. And he put Neville and Hermione under the Imperius curse, so I went with him to buy time, and slipped Fred and George the map."</p>
<p>At that, Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, that was an ingenious little plan, Harry," he said. "Did Crouch let on how he knew?"</p>
<p>"Because of his foe-glass," Harry said miserably.</p>
<p>Dumbledore nodded and Harry told the rest.</p>
<p>"And then you came in," Harry finished simply. He shook his head. "How did Crouch die? I didn't hear you use any spells."</p>
<p>"I didn't have time to," Dumbledore answered. "Crouch used the Killing Curse on himself."</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>"Is that even possible?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>Dumbledore leaned back. "The only true requirement for the Killing Curse is intent," he said. "You really have to mean it. So it's rare for someone to be able to use it on himself, but it is theoretically possible."</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head, which only caused the pain to flare more painfully. "But he wasn't suicidal," she said.</p>
<p>"No, he wasn't," Dumbledore agreed.</p>
<p>Harry's brow was furrowed, and he stared intently at Dumbledore. "He didn't start using lethal force until he saw you," he said, looking at Dumbledore. "I didn't see that look in his eyes until he saw you. But he didn't even try to fight you."</p>
<p>"Which likely means Crouch was more afraid of being captured than killed," Dumbledore said.</p>
<p>The man had spent time in Azkaban. Had he thought death better than a lifetime with the dementors? Hermione shuddered at the thought of spending even five minutes with them.</p>
<p>"He—he told me that the Dark Lord's plans weren't for me to know," Harry said slowly. "But he didn't deny that Voldemort had a reason for putting my name in the goblet of fire, and for Crouch helping me with the tasks. He didn't try to hurt me—he kept trying to neutralize me. Maybe he was worried…that if you captured him, you'd force him to give up the Dark Lord's plans for me."</p>
<p>"Veritaserum," Hermione said automatically, like they were in class, discussing theoretical scenarios.</p>
<p>Dumbledore smiled at them, a proud gleam in his eye. "Precisely what I was thinking," he said. "Barty Crouch Jr. appears to be one of Voldemort's truest believers. And we know he knew of Voldemort's plans—possibly even his whereabouts. He would not want to give that away."</p>
<p>"So dying was a better option than letting Voldemort's plans get foiled?" Harry asked incredulously.</p>
<p>Dumbledore took off his glasses, wiping them, before putting them back in place. He smiled sadly. "I know it seems unfathomable to you," he said. "But the level of devotion that Voldemort achieved from his followers during the war was almost unmatched in its intensity. Those who managed to escape Azkaban seem to have moved on—more concerned with living their lives than finding their old master. But there are some who would not hesitate to give their life to Voldemort's cause. Barty Crouch Jr. is apparently one of them."</p>
<p>"But with Crouch gone, isn't whatever he has planned for the tournament over?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I would think so," Dumbledore said. "But I will personally see to all of the details of the third task to ensure Crouch didn't do something to tamper with it."</p>
<p>"But why does Harry have to compete at all?" Hermione asked impatiently. "There's proof now that he didn't put his name in the goblet of fire. Doesn't that nullify the magical contract?"</p>
<p>"I'm afraid not," Dumbledore said sadly.</p>
<p>"But You-Know-Who wants him to compete," Hermione kept arguing. "It's not safe for <em>any </em>of the contestants."</p>
<p>"Unfortunately, they're all magically bound," Dumbledore replied. "But we will do everything to ensure their safety."</p>
<p>There was a knock at the door, and then Professor McGonagall entered. She eyed Harry and Hermione, a misty expression on her face.</p>
<p>"We found the real Alastor Moody locked in a drawer in his trunk," she said. "He's alive. I've taken him to Poppy."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione exchanged a confused glance. If the real Moody had been there, why hadn't he shown up on the map?</p>
<p>"How's Neville?" Hermione asked, searching Professor McGonagall's face for a reaction.</p>
<p>"Did you see him when you went there?" Harry added.</p>
<p>McGonagall nodded. "He's resting now," she said. "It will be awhile before he wakes up, but he should make a full recovery."</p>
<p>Harry visibly slumped with relief at her words, and Hermione's own emotions mirrored his.</p>
<p>"These two should get to the hospital wing, now," McGonagall said, and Dumbledore nodded in agreement. Hermione was ready for the hospital wing—was ready for a dreamless sleep where she wouldn't have to see Crouch's frightful, lifeless face staring up at her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It was bright out when she woke up, and Hermione wondered if it had been several hours or several days. She was lying in the hospital wing, and someone had put her into her pajamas. She stretched her toes and wiggled her fingers—she still felt a bit sore, but she knew she should feel a lot worse.</p>
<p>She blinked and turned to the side—Harry was laying in the bed next to her, staring at her. He shot up when he saw her open her eyes, swung his legs over the side of the bed, and walked over to the chair beside her.</p>
<p>"How are you feeling?" he asked.</p>
<p>"All right," she replied, sitting up in bed. "How long have I been out?"</p>
<p>"It's Tuesday afternoon. I just woke a little while ago," Harry said. "Madam Pomfrey went to go get Professor Dumbledore."</p>
<p>"Is Neville awake?" she asked.</p>
<p>Harry shook his head, looking down guiltily. "Madam Pomfrey isn't sure when he'll wake up."</p>
<p>"Harry—"</p>
<p>But she was interrupted when the door to the hospital wing opened, and Dumbledore stepped inside.</p>
<p>"Good, you're both awake," he said, conjuring a chair for himself next to Harry. "How are you two feeling?"</p>
<p>"We're fine," Harry and Hermione said.</p>
<p>But Hermione considered that answer. Physically, she <em>was</em> feeling much better. Mentally, she was experiencing a flood of memories, those puzzle pieces from when she'd been under the Imperius curse. It hadn't felt unlike the time she'd had a molar removed, and then she and her mum had watched <em>Alice in Wonderland</em> while she was still high on painkillers.</p>
<p>She wasn't someone who dealt well with loss of control, and while the Imperius curse enveloped you in a cocoon of bliss, there had been a part of her that had felt how wrong it was, that had rebelled against the orders and fuzzy way the curse made her see the world.</p>
<p>But it hadn't been enough. She'd seen Crouch and Harry arguing, seen them begin to duel, but she had been powerless to stop it—powerless to do anything but sit there and drink lukewarm tea loaded up with brown sugar—which she didn't even like. But he'd ordered them to put sugar in their tea and drink it, and so she did.</p>
<p>She'd vaguely heard Harry defending her—his utter faith in her that she could break the Imperius—but it was like an echo, a whisper of something, and she'd felt like a failure, like she was letting him down by not immediately being able to do it. If their places had been exchanged, he would've been able to break free.</p>
<p>And that had just made her feel worse—failure was her greatest fear after all, and it tried to coax her back into the false bliss that Crouch had offered. But when she'd seen Crouch advancing on Harry, the desperate look in Harry's eye as he reached for his wand, something inside of her snapped. He had needed her, and she had refused to fail him.</p>
<p>And yet, she was still in a bit of shock that she'd actually done it.</p>
<p>She looked up, and saw Harry and Dumbledore watching her intently.</p>
<p>"I'm fine," she repeated.</p>
<p>"Where's Moody—the real Moody?" Hermione asked, as she looked around and realized he was not in the hospital wing.</p>
<p>"He's been taken to St. Mungo's," Dumbledore said. "Hopefully, when he wakes up, he'll be able to shed more light on Crouch's plan."</p>
<p>"Do they know how Crouch escaped Azkaban?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"The ministry sent aurors to the Crouch family home," Dumbledore said. "Barty Crouch Sr. was gone and the house was deserted."</p>
<p>"Do you think he helped his son?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I think it's likely he helped him escape, yes," Dumbledore said. "The ministry exhumed Barty Crouch Jr.'s grave yesterday and found the remains of his mother. It seems likely that she somehow traded places with her son when she and Barty Crouch Sr. went to visit him. I don't see how she could have done it without her husband's help."</p>
<p>"Winky might know," Harry responded. "She was their house elf for years."</p>
<p>"I suspect she does know, at least part of it," Dumbledore responded. "And, indeed, I tried to question her. But Winky is a free elf—I cannot command her to tell me the truth, and she has chosen to keep her former master's secrets."</p>
<p>"Can't you give her veritaserum or something?" Harry asked impatiently.</p>
<p>"That particular potion is only for wizards," Dumbledore replied.</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione considered everything he'd said.</p>
<p>"Do you think Crouch helped his son with this plan?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"No," Dumbledore said. "I've known Barty Crouch Sr. a long time. He would not willingly help Voldemort. And with his disappearance this year, I think it much more likely he was killed or imprisoned—perhaps put under the Imperius himself."</p>
<p>"He would've been under the Imperius for months," Hermione murmured.</p>
<p>"Yes," Dumbledore agreed.</p>
<p>"Professor," Hermione started to ask, and then stopped herself, not sure how to ask what she wanted to.</p>
<p>"Yes?" Dumbledore asked.</p>
<p>"How—how is it that Crouch Sr. could be under the Imperius for months, but Neville and I broke it in an afternoon?"</p>
<p>Crouch was a far more skilled wizard than they were—it didn't seem possible.</p>
<p>"What do you know of the Imperius curse, Miss Granger?"</p>
<p>"What Crouch told us in class—that the only way to break it is with your own strength of character." She'd tried to research it more after class like she did with every subject, but all of the books on the Unforgivable Curses had been in the restricted section.</p>
<p>Dumbledore smiled slightly. "Yes, I asked Professor Moody—Crouch—to give the fourth and fifth years a rudimentary knowledge of the Unforgivables," he said. "Which means what they look like, and in the case of the Imperius, how to fight against it. But had you taken a N.E.W.T. level class, you would have learned that there are a great many factors that go into a successful Imperius."</p>
<p>"Like what?" Harry asked, leaning forward.</p>
<p>"The inner strength of the person being cursed is indeed what is most important," Dumbledore said, "and age and skill has nothing to do with that. But you must also consider the skill of the person casting the spell; how much intent they've got behind the curse; and how many people they have under the Imperius. You see, when you hold someone under the Imperius, you must maintain a connection with them. This isn't a conscious connection—if you hold someone for weeks or months, you still must be able to sleep and go about your life—but the more connections you add, the more potential there is to weaken one of your holds.</p>
<p>"There's also the mental state of the caster," Dumbledore added. "When Voldemort was at the height of his power, he held dozens under the Imperius with ease. But that only came after a great deal of practice. What has Crouch been doing all of these years? If, indeed, his father helped him escape Azkaban, it also seems likely that he locked his son up somehow—which means he was out of practice when it came to magic and holding two people—possibly three, if that's how he subdued Alastor Moody—would've been mentally exhausting. And, if Crouch Sr. used the Imperius to hold him, it's possible Crouch Jr. was under the Imperius for more than a decade. Even if he broke free, that would affect his ability to maintain an Imperius on someone else."</p>
<p>Dumbledore looked at Hermione intently. "There's also, of course, the situation you're in," he said. "As I understand it, when Crouch used the Imperius on you all in class, Harry was the only one to break free."</p>
<p>"Right," Hermione said. "Neville and I couldn't do it then."</p>
<p>"But you also didn't have a reason to," Dumbledore countered. "From what Harry told me, you broke free when you saw that he was in trouble—your connection with him was strong and enabled your inner strength to fight back. In Neville's case, Crouch ordered him to jump out a window, an order that would cause all but the most weak-willed of people to fight back. They may or may not succeed, but it's a situation that would at least jump-start Neville's will if he hadn't been fighting the curse already. Add in the blow he suffered when he was banished, Crouch's mental exhaustion from maintaining multiple Imperius curses and his battle with the two of you, <em>and</em> the jolt Neville would have received from seeing Barty Crouch Jr. alive—it's not really a surprise that he'd be able to break the Imperius in this instance."</p>
<p>In this instance…</p>
<p>"So, you're saying that even though we've broken the Imperius once, it doesn't mean we'll automatically be able to do it again if someone else tries it?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Exactly," Dumbledore said gravely. "It'll be easier for you to throw it off because your brain has a roadmap now—but if the caster were powerful enough, that could mean very little."</p>
<p>Harry furrowed his brow. "So it's sort of like a Patronus then?" he asked. "Even if you've conjured it before, whether you can do it again depends on how happy a memory you have, how many dementors there are, your mental state before the dementors attack…"</p>
<p>"An apt analogy," Dumbledore agreed.</p>
<p>They talked for a while more—Dumbledore told them that while the rest of the school more or less knew what had happened, the hospital wing was on lockdown for now. He also assured Harry that he'd arrange for a visit with Snuffles soon—once ministry officials stopped coming and going from the castle.</p>
<p>When Dumbledore left, Harry stood up and paced in front of Hermione's bed.</p>
<p>"What's the point of all of this?" he fumed. "Why would he send someone here to enter me into the tournament, then help me with the tournament, and then not try to kill me when he had the chance?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," Hermione said slowly, twisting her blanket around in her hands. "We don't have the bigger picture—but we do have to be even more careful with the third task."</p>
<p>"Dumbledore said he'd make sure Crouch didn't tamper with anything," Harry said.</p>
<p>"Even still," Hermione argued. "The task will be dangerous enough as it is. And You-Know-Who has three months to come up with a Plan B."</p>
<p>Harry ran his fingers through his hair, clearly still aggravated, turned to pace again, and stilled when he saw Neville's bed. Neville was lying there, looking quite small, his face both bruised and pale. Harry stiffened, then plopped down on the bed next to Hermione, defeated.</p>
<p>"It's my fault," he rasped, never taking his eyes off Neville, not looking at her. "What happened to both of you. I should've listened to you."</p>
<p>Hermione shifted closer to him, studying him, though all she could see was his profile. "You <em>did</em> listen to me, Harry," she said. "How could we have known that he saw you in the foe-glass? It's nearly impossible to control a gut reaction like that."</p>
<p>Harry was quiet, considering that. "I just wish he'd wake up," he said, and Hermione slipped her hand into his.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They spent days in the hospital wing sitting by Neville's bedside. Madam Pomfrey eventually transfigured the armchair next to his bed into a sofa so they'd both have somewhere to sit.</p>
<p>On their first night sitting vigil, Hermione slipped her hand into Harry's once more. It felt solid and safe, and as they spent their days sitting side by side, it became something of a habit. It was a gentle reminder that they were each still there and, quite frankly, it seemed to help calm their nerves. Madam Pomfrey kept insisting that Neville would be fine, but every day that he stayed sleeping just made them more jittery. Holding Harry's hand gave her something to do, and when they broke apart, her own hand felt empty and cold.</p>
<p>Hermione also had a lot of time in the quiet of the hospital wing to piece together what had happened, replaying that Sunday afternoon in her mind.</p>
<p>When she had been Harry's hostage in the second task, she had felt <em>something</em> she couldn't quite identify, elated by the thought that she was the person he would sorely miss.</p>
<p>And yet, this was something entirely different. It was their connection with each other that enabled her to throw off the Imperius curse. And while Harry didn't say it in so many words, she'd been able to piece together what he'd been thinking when he threw himself on top of her: Crouch was going to use the Killing Curse, Harry didn't believe Crouch would use the curse on him, and Neville was unconscious on the floor, so the only logical person Crouch would try to kill was her. And Harry had thrown himself in her way.</p>
<p>Hermione had seen that look in Crouch's eyes too, but she'd been frozen in fear. And Harry hadn't even hesitated to protect her.</p>
<p>This felt different than it had in the past—Yes, Harry had always been someone who tried to save everyone, but Avada Kedavra wasn't the possibility of getting hurt or killed like the troll had been; it was instant death if it hit you. The fact that he had done that for her scared her—what if he had been hit—but it also shook her to her very core when she realized just how much he cared.</p>
<p>She didn't know what that sacrifice meant, didn't know how to try to talk about it with Harry until she understood what she was feeling herself, but she knew that calling him her "best friend" felt silly and superficial compared to the bond that they shared.</p>
<p>When she wasn't examining what had happened, she was busy doing work. Every day, Professor McGonagall delivered their assignments to them and notes from class that their fellow Gryffindors had volunteered. Hermione couldn't believe that only a few short days ago, she was worried about facing Snape in class. And now, she wasn't even going.</p>
<p>While they dutifully did their homework, Hermione spent most of her time devising a timetable for the spells Harry would learn for the third task. She couldn't believe that Harry still had to participate, but it was more important than ever that he be prepared. If Crouch was willing to die rather than risk being captured by Dumbledore, it meant that he thought You-Know-Who's plan was still salvageable.</p>
<p>Physically, both Harry and Hermione seemed healed, but Madam Pomfrey didn't release them—whether that was because she was fretting about them in the aftermath of what happened or Dumbledore wanted to shield them from the school, Hermione couldn't be sure.</p>
<p>Of course, he couldn't shield them from everything. A few days after they woke up, an owl delivered the <em>Daily Prophet</em> to Hermione—and on the front page was an article about Harry written by Rita Skeeter.</p>
<p>They had been expecting it.</p>
<p>"What does it say?" Harry asked warily.</p>
<p>
  <em>While the Triwizard Tournament is known for being a dangerous event, students are supposed to be safe when they're attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. But due to Albus Dumbledore's astounding lack of judgment and competence, Barty Crouch Jr.—a known Death Eater who was sent to Azkaban for life for torturing Aurors Frank and Alice Longbottom, and who was believed to be dead—imprisoned and impersonated ex-Auror Alastor Moody for months with no one being the wiser.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>No one, that is, except Harry Potter. Upon finding out that his teacher was a Death Eater, the boy who defeated You-Know-Who as a baby proved his mettle by taking on the Death Eater singlehandedly, a battle that ended in Crouch's death.</em>
</p>
<p>Harry was stunned. "Is she actually trying to make people think that I killed him?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Apparently so," Hermione said.</p>
<p>"I'm surprised she didn't try to turn it around on me," Harry replied. "Harry Potter Goes on Killing Spree at Hogwarts."</p>
<p>Hermione smiled grimly. "I suppose it was too hard to make a Death Eater the victim, even for her," she said. "She might have soured on us, but Boy-Who-Lived Defeats Death Eater is something people will eat up."</p>
<p>"What else does it say?"</p>
<p>"It goes on like that for a while," Hermione murmured. "She mentions Neville. '<em>In a fitting bit of symmetry, Harry Potter's actions saved the life of Neville Longbottom—the very boy who tragically lost his parents to insanity due to Barty Crouch Jr.'s actions all those years ago.'"</em></p>
<p>Harry looked at Neville compassionately. "Everyone will know about his parents now when he wakes up," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head angrily. "As if he didn't have enough to deal with," she responded. She honestly didn't know how he was going to react to everything that had happened.</p>
<p>"Does the article mention you?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"No—it probably doesn't fit her narrative to have you saving the deceitful harlot who's sneaking you love potions."</p>
<p>"Well, what kind of wizard can successfully kill a Death Eater, but can't handle a 15-year old?" Harry snarked. "Sort of makes the hero of her story look like a bit of an idiot."</p>
<p>Hermione grinned.</p>
<p>"And then there's this bit at the end about Crouch Sr.," Hermione continued, furrowing her brow. "She blames Dumbledore for being incompetent for not uncovering Crouch Jr., but she also makes it seem like Crouch Jr.'s whole plan was a ministry cover up—like his dad was in on it. '<em>It, of course, cannot be a coincidence that the last visitors Barty Crouch Jr. received in Azkaban were his parents—and his mother was found in his grave. It cannot also be a coincidence that Crouch Jr. managed to install himself at Hogwarts the very year Barty Crouch Sr. spearheaded the effort to reinstate the Triwizard Tournament, ensuring he had a foothold at the school. And just where has Crouch Sr. run to now? It seems Cornelius Fudge has a lot to answer to for keeping such a dangerous wizard in such a high-ranking position."</em></p>
<p>Harry was quiet for a moment, and then said, "Better Fudge than me."</p>
<p>And then they'd settled back into their sofa, waiting for Neville to wake up.</p>
<p>They'd gone on like that for days, sitting quietly, diligently doing their work, debating which spells Harry should learn first. And then finally, one rainy day, she felt Harry's elbow gently nudging her in the ribs, waking her from a nap.</p>
<p>"Hermione, c'mon, get up," Harry whispered.</p>
<p>Her eyelids fluttered open, and the room was sideways—she'd fallen asleep on his shoulder. She shifted to sit up and looked at Harry. He was smiling, and jerked his thumb toward Neville's bed.</p>
<p>Hermione turned and grinned as Harry said, quite unnecessarily at this point, "Neville's awake."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>They didn't get a chance to talk to Neville right away. Madam Pomfrey bustled in with a thousand different tests and checks she wanted to do, shooing Harry and Hermione back to their own beds. But finally she was satisfied, and left the hospital wing to inform Professor Dumbledore of Neville's change in status.</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione crept back to their sofa, unsure how much Neville remembered or if he even wanted to talk about it. Harry and Hermione were much more used to this sort of thing—they had a bit of experience when it came to foiling Voldemort's plots—but even Hermione had been quiet the past few days, sometimes looking at Harry curiously or getting lost in her own thoughts. Harry was never sure if she wanted to talk or not—wasn't sure if he would know the right things to say anyway, but she seemed satisfied just holding his hand. And, if he were being honest with himself, nothing had ever felt as natural as holding hers.</p>
<p>Neville looked at them. "What happened?" he asked. And Harry told him the whole thing, up until the point when they went to the hospital wing. Neville's face was a mixture of shock, fear, despair and fury as he listened to the tale.</p>
<p>"So it was really him then?" Neville asked, his voice hoarse, though Harry was not sure if it was from the situation or the fact that he hadn't used it in days. "It was really Barty Crouch Jr.?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Harry replied, and Neville lowered his eyes, twisting his blankets into bunches with his fists.</p>
<p>"Neville? What are you thinking?" Hermione asked anxiously from her perch next to Harry. Neville studiously avoided their faces, his slowly turning red.</p>
<p>"I've thought about it a lot," he said, his voice low. "What I'd do or say if I saw any of them. And then it happened and I was just—useless."</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head furiously. "You weren't useless, Neville, you—"</p>
<p>"All I did was give him my wand," Neville countered, his voice full of self-contempt. "You two were amazing, dueling him and everything, and I just gave him my wand."</p>
<p>Hermione glanced at Harry nervously. They had to do something, had to say something to make him feel better.</p>
<p>"It was a very stressful situation," Hermione pointed out. "No one would expect you to be able to take on a Death Eater like that."</p>
<p>Neville nodded. "No, you're right," he said. "No one would expect it of <em>me</em>."</p>
<p>There was no jealousy in his voice—he'd never been jealous of Harry and had, in fact, always been proud of his friend, which had been a welcome change for Harry—but there <em>was</em> bitterness and self-loathing. Harry watched as Neville sat there, keenly focused on a loose thread in his blanket, and Harry felt his own stomach twist uncomfortably, knowing exactly how helpless Neville felt.</p>
<p>"You did the same thing I did," Harry finally said, and Neville looked up, confusion evident on his face.</p>
<p>"No," Neville said. "You came up with that plan to tell Fred and George, you fought him, you…"</p>
<p>But Harry was shaking his head. "I'm not talking about that," Harry said. "I'm talking about when I saw Sirius in the Shrieking Shack and I thought he was the one who betrayed my parents."</p>
<p>Neville and Hermione were both watching him closely now. Harry was not someone who often talked about his feelings, but this was important.</p>
<p>"I didn't think about magic or the fact that I was 13 and Sirius was a fully grown man," Harry said quietly. "I didn't think about the fact that he had all of our wands. All I wanted… I just wanted to hurt him as much as I could, and I didn't care what it cost, if I got hurt in return. I don't know if it's possible to think rationally when you… when you're put in a situation like this. You did the only thing you could."</p>
<p>Neville was looking at Harry as though seeing him for the first time—as if he couldn't believe that they had had the same gut instincts when put in a similar situation.</p>
<p>"Harry's right," Hermione added. "Honestly, Neville, it was an impossible situation. We're just really glad you're okay."</p>
<p>Harry cleared his throat, looking at his hands. "Besides," he said, "If anyone should be blaming themselves, it's me. I got you into this mess in the first place. If I hadn't tipped off Crouch, none of this would've happened."</p>
<p>Being Harry Potter's friend should come with hazard pay, he thought.</p>
<p>"Harry, we've been through this," Hermione said, a hint of exasperation in her voice, and Harry had to smile at that. She'd been quieter since they woke up, and it had worried him. Hearing her return to normal made him glad.</p>
<p>"You couldn't help being scared for Neville any more than he could help feeling rage at Crouch," Hermione continued. "As you <em>just</em> said, feelings aren't always rational."</p>
<p>Leave it to Hermione to use his own logic against him, he thought, as he looked up at them ruefully. Hermione's eyebrows were raised, as if daring him to disagree with her, but there was plain affection in her expression. Neville, who had always worn his feelings on his sleeve, was looking at Harry fiercely, like he'd never had a friend who was worried for his safety—and then Harry realized he very likely hadn't.</p>
<p>"I don't blame you for any of this," Neville added in a measured, assuring tone. "This might not be the greatest week of my life, but being friends with you two—I wouldn't trade it for anything."</p>
<p>Hermione grinned widely at Neville, and Harry couldn't help but smile, too.</p>
<p>Neville glanced around the room and caught sight of Hermione's pile of notes. "What's that?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Hermione's plan of action for the third task," Harry said. "I've got a lot of spells to learn."</p>
<p>"They're still holding the tournament?" Neville asked incredulously, biting his lip. "Even knowing that… that You-You-Know-Who was involved?"</p>
<p>A dark look crossed Hermione's face—Harry knew precisely how she felt about that—and he shrugged. Voldemort was probably going to be coming after him one way or another, whether there was a tournament or not.</p>
<p>Whatever his friends were going to say, they were stopped by the sound of the door to the hospital wing opening. There, standing in the doorway, was a short, severe woman in green robes with a large, vulture hat sitting atop her head.</p>
<p>"Gran?" Neville whispered incredulously, like he could scarcely believe she was at Hogwarts.</p>
<p>"Well, of course I'm back, Neville," she said, striding toward them with a quickness Harry wouldn't expect from someone her age.</p>
<p>"Back?" Neville parroted, as she approached him, and took his face in her claw-like hands, inspecting him meticulously.</p>
<p>"I came as soon as I heard," she said briskly, turning his head this way and that, and Neville looked surprised at her words. "But you all were asleep still—sleeping draughts—and there's not much use sitting by someone's bedside, is there? My time was better spent making sure Cornelius Fudge does something about this Crouch business. But I told Albus to inform me as soon as you woke, and here I am."</p>
<p>Neville looked at her agape, but his grandmother seemed satisfied with his recovery because she gave him a stern nod and an appraising smile. "You look better. I'm glad to see you're well," she said, as if the matter was settled.</p>
<p>But there were no hugs, no words of love, nothing that Harry thought grandmothers were supposed to be—not that he had any experience in the matter. But Harry could see that Hermione was frowning, too, and she had normal relationships with her family. As far as he knew, they'd never chucked a frying pan at her head, at any rate.</p>
<p>Neville had never painted a particularly warm picture of his Gran, but Harry hadn't been expecting this.</p>
<p>Gran turned her shrewd eye on Harry and Hermione. "I'm Augusta Longbottom," she said. "I know who you are, of course. Neville speaks most highly of the both of you."</p>
<p>The way she said it reminded Harry very much of the way Neville always said, "Gran says"—it was as if Neville's was the only opinion Augusta Longbottom needed on the matter.</p>
<p>She held out her hand, and Harry and Hermione shook it.</p>
<p>"He's quite lucky, the two of you saving him like you did," she said, giving Neville another assessing look. "He's a good boy, but I'm afraid he doesn't have his father's talent. But the two of you—dueling a Death Eater twice your age like that. True Gryffindors, I say."</p>
<p>Neville looked miserable, Hermione was staring quite openly, but something in Harry snapped.</p>
<p>"I don't know," he said coldly, sitting up straighter, "I think fighting off the Imperius curse takes a bit of talent."</p>
<p>Neville blushed, but Augusta Longbottom blinked, like she hadn't quite heard Harry.</p>
<p>"It shows real strength of character, doesn't it, Hermione?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Hermione, having recovered from her shock, shook her head furiously. "Yes, it does," she said. "There aren't a lot of wizards who could have done it."</p>
<p>"Well, yes, of course," Augusta said, looking Neville over once again. Neville always said his family had treated him like half a squib—they hadn't been sure he had enough magic to even get into Hogwarts. Perhaps she'd just blinded herself to who Neville really was?</p>
<p>"We've been lucky to have him too, you know," Harry added. "He believed me about the tournament when almost no one else did—and now we've all seen how that's turned out. And I wouldn't have been able to get past the second task without him."</p>
<p>Augusta smiled proudly. "Well, we Longbottoms have always been made of stronger stuff," she said. "Fortitude and loyalty—<em>that</em> he got from his father."</p>
<p>Neville grinned, blushing furiously, and Harry thought that might be the first compliment his gran had ever given him in his life.</p>
<p>By the time she left, Harry wasn't sure what to make of Augusta Longbottom. She clearly cared for Neville—had brought him his favorite sweets and dutifully informed him how his favorite plants were faring in his absence at home, making it clear that his interests were a priority for her—but there was very little sentimentality in their exchanges. Harry thought it must be a bit like having Professor McGonagall for a grandmother.</p>
<p>And then there'd been Neville's parents. When it had come up that Rita had written about his parents in the <em>Daily Prophet</em>, Neville had gotten upset—and when it became clear that no one at Hogwarts had known about his parents except his friends, Augusta had gotten angry, scolding Neville that he should be proud of his parents and wear it like a badge of honor.</p>
<p>Neville had muttered that he was proud, but it got lost in Augusta's reminiscence of some of her son's greatest exploits, and it became very clear very quickly to both Harry and Hermione where a lot of Neville's confidence issues came from.</p>
<p>When she'd left, she'd taken Neville's wand out of her purse—Dumbledore had given it to her—proudly rhapsodizing about how it had been Frank Longbottom's wand that had taken out Barty Crouch Jr. Harry had frowned, searching his memories—had Neville ever mentioned that his wand had been his dad's? And why would someone from an old wizarding family give a boy someone else's wand when everyone knew the wand chose the wizard?</p>
<p>Augusta Longbottom had droned on about the Longbottom wand getting justice from Crouch, seemingly unaware of the wary eye Neville gave the wand as she set it on his nightstand.</p>
<p>But then she'd patted Neville's hair affectionately and kissed him on the cheek, and Harry came away from the whole thing with only one thought in mind: Families were complicated.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next day, Dumbledore stopped by the hospital wing and asked Harry to come to his office. When they reached the gargoyle statue, Dumbledore let him inside and told him that he'd instruct the gargoyle to let no one in but him.</p>
<p>Harry ascended the stairs eager to see Sirius. When he arrived in the office, Sirius was pacing in front of the fireplace. He turned as he heard Harry, and a relieved smile took over his face. He looked healthier than he had even a week ago.</p>
<p>"Harry," Sirius said, gripping Harry's arm, and pulling him into a tight hug. Harry felt a bit like he was getting crushed, but it was an altogether pleasant sensation, so he didn't say anything.</p>
<p>"I'm fine," he said automatically, as Sirius pulled back to look at him, ushering him toward the two armchairs by Dumbledore's desk.</p>
<p>"Moony wanted to be here," Sirius said, "but last night—"</p>
<p>"Full moon," Harry said. "I know."</p>
<p>"Dumbledore told me what happened," Sirius said, his voice low. "But, if it's not too hard, I'd like to hear it from you."</p>
<p>And so Harry began to tell him everything. When he got to the part about seeing Crouch's name on the map, he stopped.</p>
<p>"There's one thing I don't get," he said. "Why didn't the real Moody show up on the map?"</p>
<p>"Because the map didn't know about the room Moody was in," Sirius answered.</p>
<p>Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"</p>
<p>"If you want to make a map of anywhere plottable in the world, you could just wave your wand, say the right spell, and a map would appear—and it would show everything," Sirius explained. "But that doesn't work for unplottable places like Hogwarts. To make a map of Hogwarts, you actually have to draw it out yourself. It took years of work, but we managed to do it. But the map is still only as good as our knowledge of Hogwarts was. Any room that we didn't know about isn't on there."</p>
<p>"But you knew about Moody's office," Harry pointed out.</p>
<p>"But Moody was hidden in his trunk," Sirius said. "That trunk he has isn't a usual one. It's got a hidden drawer that can act as simply that—a drawer—or extend out to an entire apartment if you need it to be. It's fairly rare to see someone with one—only paranoid people who think they might have to go on the run are usually interested in buying one—but it essentially created a new room within Hogwarts."</p>
<p>"So, since that room wasn't on the map, he didn't show up," Harry said, and Sirius nodded. "Do you think there are other rooms—real rooms—we don't know about?"</p>
<p>"Undoubtedly," Sirius said, leaning back in his chair, a faraway grin on his face. "We did a fair bit of exploring in our day, but I don't think anyone—not even Dumbledore—knows all of Hogwarts' secrets."</p>
<p>That made sense—except for one thing.</p>
<p>"But if the map is based on Hogwarts as you knew it, how does it know where all the people are now?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Sirius grinned mischievously. "That bit of genius was your dad's," he said. "He linked the map to a revealing charm—had to create a new spell to do it too—and then we had to link the charm to all of the rooms."</p>
<p>"You could create new spells?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Sirius looked surprised. "Where do you think new spells come from?"</p>
<p>"Well, yes, I know wizards can create new spells in general," Harry said, clarifying, "but you were just kids."</p>
<p>Sirius shrugged. "Your dad came from a long line of inventors and tinkerers," he said. "His dad taught him spell theory from the time he could learn to read. It wasn't that hard to come up with the charm—implementing it was a different story because we needed to be inside each room when we linked it to the map. Spelling the Gryffindor common room was fine, but we had a hell of a time getting up into the girls' dorms, even with your dad's invisibility cloak. And then there were the professors' private spaces. I drew the short stick sneaking into McGonagall's. Thought I had a genius idea, going the night the Scottish national team had their quidditch finals—McGonagall never missed a game—but they played so abysmally, the German seeker ended up catching the snitch only an hour or so in. I barely had time to dive under her bed before she came in. Luckily, she was so smashed, she collapsed right into bed. Didn't even notice my feet were kind of sticking out... Still had a time of it getting out of there though."</p>
<p>He shook his head ruefully, lost in the memory. "Your dad had a good laugh about that one," he said.</p>
<p>Harry had never thought about how the marauders had made the map—he guessed he <em>had</em> assumed that it had just taken a bit of wand-waving. But hearing about how his dad had created spells and studied every inch of Hogwarts, how his grandfather had been an inventor too, made Harry wonder why he had never bothered to ask.</p>
<p>"What is it Harry?" Sirius asked.</p>
<p>"I just realized I don't know a whole lot about my family," he said. "The Dursleys never talked about my parents growing up."</p>
<p>Sirius' nostrils flared, but he leaned forward, his hands clasped together. "I don't know much about your mum's family," he said, "but I did know her pretty well. And after I ran away from home, your dad's parents became mine. I'll tell you anything you want to know."</p>
<p>Harry looked up, startled by the revelation that Sirius had run away. "Why did you leave home?" he asked.</p>
<p>Sirius smiled bitterly. "My mum wasn't as warm as yours," he said. "None of my family was, really. But your grandparents—they just accepted this sullen, surly kid as if he were their own, no questions asked."</p>
<p>"What happened to them?" Harry asked. "When did they die?"</p>
<p>"Nothing bad," Sirius said. "They passed a little before your parents got married. They had your dad later in life, so they were already on the older side. And when they went, they went together—peacefully in their sleep."</p>
<p>Harry nodded—his parents had gone together, too, though he couldn't exactly call it peaceful.</p>
<p>Harry cleared his throat, realizing he hadn't finished telling Sirius about Crouch. He continued on with his story, but when he got to the part about knocking Hermione to the ground, Sirius gave a jolt, his face growing paler than Harry had ever seen it.</p>
<p>"You stepped in front of the Killing Curse?" Sirius asked, but it was less of a question and more of a statement. "What were you thinking?"</p>
<p>Harry shrugged uncomfortably. It had happened in a split second, so it's not like he'd had days to analyze the situation. He'd seen Hermione in trouble and he'd acted.</p>
<p>"What happened to your promise to keep your head down?" Sirius asked, his tone harsher than Harry had ever heard before. Harry looked up, startled. Sirius' lips were set in a grim line, his eyes hard.</p>
<p>"What are you so mad about?" he asked, thoroughly confused. "I thought Hermione was in trouble, and I tried to help her. It's not like I just randomly jumped in front of a Killing Curse. What was I supposed to do, let it hit her?"</p>
<p>Sirius closed his eyes. "You can't just jump in front of a Killing Curse," he said, reaching out and gripping Harry's shoulder. "You don't know what—"</p>
<p>"I think I know better than anyone what that means," Harry retorted, jerking away and standing up. He could feel anger rising up inside him. He's the one who had to hear his mother's screams whenever he saw a dementor—no one else. He looked at the fire, and heard Sirius sigh.</p>
<p>"I know that," Sirius said, and he sounded older than he ever had. He stood up and Harry felt him approach, until they were staring at the fire side by side. They both watched the flames flicker and dance for a while, neither one saying anything.</p>
<p>"I thought Hermione was in trouble—I didn't think about it, I just reacted," Harry finally said.</p>
<p>Sirius nodded. "Have you thought about why that is?" he asked.</p>
<p>Harry frowned. "Because she's my best friend," he said automatically. "Wouldn't you have done the same for my dad?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Sirius answered without any hesitation. "But your dad wasn't just my best friend. He was my brother." He paused a moment. "What's Hermione to you?"</p>
<p>Harry had no idea what having a sister was supposed to feel like. The closest he'd ever been to a brother/sister relationship was Ron and Ginny, and if theirs was any indication—an exasperated, begrudging sort of love where they bickered and mocked each other, and got into petty fights, but were there for each other when it truly counted—then that certainly didn't describe him and Hermione. There was nothing petty or mocking about their relationship.</p>
<p>Harry could feel Sirius' eyes on him, expecting some sort of answer.</p>
<p>"What does it matter?" Harry finally asked. "She's important."</p>
<p>"It matters," Sirius answered quietly, "because if someone is that important to you, you should figure out why. Your mother knew what she was sacrificing herself for."</p>
<p>"Well, so did I," Harry answered, uncomfortable with this line of questioning. Hermione had always been there for him—he hadn't always appreciated her, but this year, more than ever, he'd learned how much he'd come to depend on her, how much he needed her in his life.</p>
<p>He didn't <em>want</em> to examine their relationship—he just wanted it to be there the same as it always had been, the one constant he'd had these past four years. And yet, he couldn't help thinking: Was this why Hermione kept looking at him curiously? Did she not understand what he did either?</p>
<p>But she had to understand, he thought. Wasn't that how she was able to fight off the Imperius?</p>
<p>Harry shook his head, trying to shake these thoughts. "I thought you liked Hermione," Harry said.</p>
<p>"I do," Sirius replied, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice. "How could I not? She saved my life and I'll never forget that. And I'll never say you're wrong for wanting to protect her. But your mother died for you, Harry. And she trusted me to make sure you stay safe—and it's a hell of a job I'm doing, getting locked up for 12 years and then letting you throw yourself in front of Killing Curses."</p>
<p>It was just the one Killing Curse, Harry thought irritably, though he didn't think that would be an argument that would sway Sirius.</p>
<p>Harry looked at Sirius then, and saw the haggard lines in his face, the bitterness and recrimination in his eyes.</p>
<p>"Azkaban wasn't your fault," Harry said, "and neither was this. You couldn't have known about Crouch."</p>
<p>Sirius' shoulders tensed. "Crouch never should've gotten in," he said sharply, shaking his head and turning to face Harry. "I'm not going to lie to you and tell you that there won't come a time when you won't have to fight Voldemort or his Death Eaters. But you're 14 years old. The adults in your life should be protecting you from this. You should be worried about Transfiguration tests and what girl you want to snog, not Death Eaters."</p>
<p>"I'm not a kid," Harry insisted. "I can handle it."</p>
<p>Sirius smiled sadly, squeezing Harry's shoulder once again. "You can handle it because you've always had to," he said. "Because there was no one you could turn to. But that doesn't mean you should <em>have</em> to handle it."</p>
<p>Harry had never had an adult he could go to with his problems, and this felt like an altogether new experience.</p>
<p>Sirius took Harry's face gently in his hands, forcing Harry to meet his eyes. Harry couldn't help but compare it to how Augusta Longbottom had inspected Neville—but whereas she was proud of Neville for getting in this sort of situation, Sirius was scolding him.</p>
<p>"There's still a few more months until the third task," Sirius said. "Dumbledore's tried to call it off—"</p>
<p>"He has?" Harry asked. Dumbledore hadn't said anything to him.</p>
<p>Sirius nodded. "He and Karkaroff both argued that the tournament should be called off—I imagine Karkaroff is antsy to get out of the country now that Crouch Jr. has been exposed—but the decision lies in the governments' hands, and Fudge convinced the other ministers to move forward. Seems Skeeter's article got to him, and he thinks that if he calls it off it's like he's admitting that Crouch Sr. and his entire department were somehow involved in Crouch Jr.'s dirty dealings. In any case, we don't know what Voldemort has planned—but I need you to promise me that you'll be more careful from now on. No more running in front of Killing Curses, even if it is for Hermione. Find something safer to do with her."</p>
<p>"Like what?" Harry asked grudgingly. All they had been doing that day was visiting the Kitchens—it's not his fault there was a homicidal maniac on the loose.</p>
<p>"I think you two can come up with something," Sirius grinned playfully, before adopting a more serious expression. "But truly, Harry. I made a promise to your mother and your father to keep you safe, and now I need you to make a promise to me."</p>
<p>Harry could see in Sirius' eyes how much time he'd spent beating himself up for not being there for Harry, even if it hadn't been his fault. He could see how desperately Sirius wanted to make up for that. Harry would never apologize for wanting to protect Hermione, but he <em>was</em> beginning to feel guilty for worrying Sirius. It was a foreign feeling for him. Usually, the only people who worried about him were his friends—and they were always a part of whichever impulsive stunt Harry had pulled. Being accountable to someone was strange, but he couldn't say he hated it.</p>
<p>Harry nodded, his throat feeling scratchy. "I promise," he said, and Sirius nodded.</p>
<p>They sat back down, discussing Hermione's plan of attack for the third task—Sirius had some spells of his own to add to her list—and before Harry knew it, Dumbledore had climbed the stairs, quietly making his entrance known with a soft "ahem."</p>
<p>Sirius saw him enter first, and turned, instantly stiffening at whatever he saw in Dumbledore's face.</p>
<p>"What is it?" he asked warily.</p>
<p>"I've just had a Floo call from Amelia Bones," Dumbledore said, and at Harry's confused look, he added, "She's the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and presides over the Wizengamot."</p>
<p>"What did she say?" Sirius asked.</p>
<p>"Alastor Moody has finally woken up," Dumbledore said, "and he's talking."</p>
<p>"Did he see Crouch when he was attacked?" Harry asked eagerly. "Was Voldemort with him?"</p>
<p>Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "Voldemort was not with him," he answered calmly, "though according to Alastor Moody, Crouch was not alone. Alastor told Amelia Bones that Crouch attacked him with another wizard's help—Peter Pettigrew."</p>
<p>Sirius looked as dumbfounded as Harry felt. Despite it all, Harry felt hope rising in his chest.</p>
<p>"Did she believe him?" he asked quickly. "Doesn't everyone think Moody's just some nutter now?"</p>
<p>"There are those who do believe that," Dumbledore agreed amiably, a twinkle in his eye. "But remember, Harry, people believe that because they think Moody's seeing dark wizards where none exist. But in this case, we have proof that a dark wizard exists—Barty Crouch Jr. himself. So Amelia was inclined to believe him about a second supposedly deceased wizard."</p>
<p>"What does that mean for Sirius?" Harry asked, barely able to breathe.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Dumbledore said quietly, shaking his head. "I've told her what I know—and I assume she'll want to speak with you and Remus, Hermione and Ron."</p>
<p>"After the debacle with Crouch Jr., Fudge won't want to admit to another mistake," Sirius said darkly, the hopelessness practically radiating off him. Harry watched him silently—it was as if Sirius thought good things couldn't happen to him anymore.</p>
<p>"No, he won't," Dumbledore agreed. "But Amelia is fair. She'll want the truth."</p>
<p>Harry closed his eyes—maybe it really was possible. Maybe Sirius would finally go free and he could have a home—a real home—for the first time ever.</p>
<p>"Can't they just give us Veritaserum?" Harry asked impatiently. Wouldn't that clear all of this up?</p>
<p>"No," Sirius said sharply, as soon as Harry had gotten the words out.</p>
<p>"Wizards have been known to throw off the effects of Veritaserum," Dumbledore explained, "and so it's not used in official proceedings."</p>
<p>Harry blinked. "But I'm 14," he said. "Do they really think I'd be able to throw it off?" That seemed a bit stupid to him.</p>
<p>Dumbledore smiled wryly. "You'd be surprised at what wizards think you're capable of, Harry," he said.</p>
<p>"Besides," Sirius added, "it's not as simple as that. Once you're under the Veritaserum, they can ask you anything they like."</p>
<p>"So?"</p>
<p>"So they might not just ask you about seeing Pettigrew," Sirius explained. "They might ask you about how I escaped—and then you'd be admitting under oath that you and Hermione broke the law."</p>
<p>"But if we broke the law because we were helping an innocent man, what should it matter?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Sirius laughed, but it was hollow. "Never underestimate the lengths the ministry will go to to protect the ministry, Harry," he said bitterly. "I won't allow you to give them any information they could use against you—or Hermione. My freedom isn't worth that."</p>
<p>Harry wanted to argue, but Sirius looked resolute—and a quick glance at Dumbledore proved he agreed. All right, Harry thought. So they couldn't use Veritaserum. But Amelia Bones was apparently looking for the truth and Harry could give it to her. Sirius might have lost hope, but Harry could have enough for the both of them.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling energized—for the first time since that disastrous night last May, there was forward movement on clearing Sirius' name.</p>
<p>He emerged from behind the gargoyle statue and was surprised to see a red-headed figure sitting on the floor beside it. Ron looked up at Harry uncertainly.</p>
<p>"Hey," he said, standing up and brushing off his robes, looking decidedly uncomfortable. They hadn't spoken at all since the night of the Yule Ball. Even when Rita Skeeter wrote about Ron and Hermione's fight, Ron had studiously avoided looking at either of them for weeks.</p>
<p>Ron reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of parchment, which Harry recognized as the map. "Here," he said, thrusting it at Harry. "Fred and George let me have it to give back to you. They said they got the cake off of it."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Harry said warily, taking the map from him. What did Ron want?</p>
<p>"Could we—could we talk?" Ron asked hopefully. For a long time Harry had wished for exactly this, but after everything that had happened to him lately, his fight with Ron seemed so far away.</p>
<p>Still, he nodded his agreement, curious what Ron had to say.</p>
<p>Ron grinned. "Great! Maybe we could go for a walk by the lake or something?"</p>
<p>Harry got the impression that Ron just wanted something to do—a reason to not have to look at Harry's face while they talked—but he couldn't help remembering walking around the lake with Hermione, munching on toast together, nor could he forget how happy he'd been that she believed him. It might sound stupid, but he didn't want to sully that memory with any talk with Ron—especially not <em>this</em> talk with Ron.</p>
<p>Besides, he had <em>just</em> promised Sirius that he wouldn't take any risks. And walking with Ron might not be a risk, but he didn't think Sirius would be pleased that he went wandering around the castle grounds when he was supposed to be in the hospital wing.</p>
<p>"I really should be getting back to Madam Pomfrey," Harry said. "We could just walk there."</p>
<p>Ron nodded, and they set off in a silence that stretched out uncomfortably. Harry felt awkward, something he'd never felt with Ron before, but he refused to be the one to break the ice—the ball was still in Ron's court.</p>
<p>"You didn't put your name in the goblet of fire," Ron finally said.</p>
<p>"Caught on, have you?" Harry asked, and even after all of this time, he couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice.</p>
<p>Ron's ears turned pink. "I suppose I've always known," he confessed. "I just didn't want to admit it because that would mean—well, it would mean that the person who did was..." He trailed off uncomfortably.</p>
<p>"Voldemort?" Harry supplied, and Ron flinched at the name. "Well, it wasn't exactly a picnic for me either, dealing with that <em>and </em>knowing my best mate didn't believe me."</p>
<p>"I believed you!" Ron insisted, not realizing that that fact made it worse. "I was just…mad and…a bit jealous, I suppose. George thinks I was jealous. And I took it out on you."</p>
<p>Harry was no stranger to jealousy. There were times when he watched Ron having a laugh with his brothers, or saw how Mrs. Weasley doted on all of them, and it made him so envious he couldn't think straight—but he'd never tried to make Ron feel bad about it.</p>
<p>Still, Ron was here, and it's not like he could use a time-turner to erase his past actions. All Ron could do was try to make up for them now.</p>
<p>"So, I know I was a prat back then with the way I acted," Ron continued. "And I was hoping...Can we just go back to the way things were before?"</p>
<p>Harry frowned. He didn't want to go back to the way things were. The way things were meant Ron and Hermione bickering all the time, with Ron sometimes reducing her to tears. The way they were meant Harry having to worry that just living his life and being Harry Potter would somehow set off Ron's jealousy.</p>
<p>It's not that he didn't want to be friends with Ron—but he definitely didn't want to go back to the way they were.</p>
<p>And there was something else bothering him, too. Realizing what it was, Harry blurted, "You haven't even apologized for any of it."</p>
<p>The back of Ron's neck flushed red. "I'm sorry," he said.</p>
<p>"It's not much of an apology if I have to ask for it, is it?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Ron sputtered a bit. "Well, I <em>am</em> sorry," he said, looking a bit lost. "I was a git about the tournament, and I should've said something earlier. I know that."</p>
<p>"Why didn't you?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Ron shrugged and became incredibly interested in the paintings they passed as they walked down the corridor. "I don't know," he said. "It was easier to just hang out with Seamus and Dean, I guess. Besides, I figured you didn't really want me around—you didn't have much trouble replacing me."</p>
<p>The end of his explanation was tinged in bitterness, which only fueled Harry's annoyance.</p>
<p>"I'm allowed to have other friends," Harry said quietly. "Especially ones who trust me and stick around."</p>
<p>Ron's entire face turned as red as his hair. "Oh, come on," he said, a bit annoyed. "I know I messed up this time, but you can't pretend like I haven't been a good friend. The chess board, the Forbidden Forest—<em>we've</em> been through a lot together, too."</p>
<p>That was true, Harry thought, remembering the way Ron had stood up to Sirius—"If you want to kill Harry, you'll have to kill us, too!"—and Harry began to feel a little guilty. Ron <em>did</em> seem to be trying—he'd clearly taken the first opportunity to come see Harry, considering this was his first trip out of the locked hospital wing. So Ron hadn't had the right words—Harry didn't always know the right words either. Maybe words weren't the way to figure out a way forward—maybe actions were.</p>
<p>Harry sighed. "Look," he said, "I don't want to fight with you anymore."</p>
<p>Ron perked up at that.</p>
<p>"But I don't want things to go back to the way they were either," Harry continued. "Things would have to be different. Neville's going through a lot right now, and I've got to be there for him—"</p>
<p>"Right," Ron said flatly. "Neville."</p>
<p>Harry felt his ire rising, but Ron was smart enough not to say anything else.</p>
<p>"Yes," Harry said testily, as they walked down the stairs. The hospital wing was just a corridor away now. "Neville, who has been there for me all year. You must've read what Crouch did to his parents—now I've got to be there for him. That's sort of how friendship works."</p>
<p>At the mention of Neville's parents, Ron looked remorseful. "So that stuff Rita Skeeter wrote about him was true then?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Harry confirmed. "But it's not just Neville. Once you apologize to Hermione, and if she accepts it—"</p>
<p>"What am I apologizing to her for?" Ron asked, looking thoroughly confused.</p>
<p>Harry stared back at Ron like he was stupid. "For trying to ruin her night at the Yule Ball?" he said. "Doesn't any of that ring a bell?"</p>
<p>"Oh that," Ron said dismissively. "That's just how Hermione and I are. You know how impossible she can be."</p>
<p>Harry stiffened. Ron was clearly expecting Harry to agree with him the way Harry usually had, but that time was long gone.</p>
<p>"I don't think she's impossible at all," Harry said coldly. "She tried to be nice to you, and you ripped into her, tried to make her feel bad about being a bad friend to me—which is a bit ridiculous seeing as how it was coming from <em>you</em>."</p>
<p>Ron looked taken aback.</p>
<p>"Hermione isn't perfect—none of us are," Harry continued. "But I won't hang around anyone who tries to make her feel bad about herself."</p>
<p>He wasn't sure how Hermione currently felt about Ron—they hadn't discussed him in ages—but he thought he knew her well enough to know she'd accept Ron's apology <em>if</em> he proved that he had changed.</p>
<p>Harry paused as they approached the door to the hospital wing, and he grasped the doorknob in his hand, trying to figure out the right words. He didn't want to hurt Ron, but on the other side of this door were two people he had to put first.</p>
<p>"It's not just about apologizing to me," Harry said. "You've got to figure out a way to make it up to Hermione, too, because I just can't see us hanging out if she doesn't want to be around you. And as for Neville—"</p>
<p>Harry sighed, realizing that the hard look Ron couldn't keep out of his eyes at the sound of Neville's name was his jealousy finding another avenue to explore.</p>
<p>"Hermione and Neville are a package deal for me. And if you can't handle that, then…" Harry shrugged.</p>
<p>Ron stared at him slightly open-mouthed, clearly unsure what to say.</p>
<p>"Thank you for bringing the map back," Harry said quietly, thinking it best to leave Ron to figure out what he wanted. "I'll see you later."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In what felt like no time at all after Neville woke up, Madam Pomfrey cleared all three friends and sent them back to Gryffindor Tower. There had only been one hiccup—the night before they were released, Harry woke up clutching his scar in agony, talking about a dream in which You-Know-Who and Pettigrew read Rita Skeeter's article about Crouch's death.</p>
<p>Harry didn't know where they were or what they were planning—but he could tell that You-Know-Who was angry.</p>
<p>"Was he angry because Crouch is dead or because he can't possibly go through with his plans for you now?" Hermione asked anxiously.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Harry said, running his hands through his hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I can't remember much more than how he felt."</p>
<p>He told Dumbledore about it the next morning. Dumbledore told them he thought the dream was probably true—he had a theory that Harry's scar hurt when You-Know-Who was nearby or feeling particularly angry. That scared Hermione more than anything at all.</p>
<p>Whatever it meant was nothing good. And she couldn't get that vision out of her head—waking up to find Harry writhing around, screaming, hand clamped to his scar. She had felt frightened and helpless and wished more than anything that there was something she could do besides wake him up and talk to him—some way she could push You-Know-Who out.</p>
<p>For his part, Neville turned particularly white after that incident, and Hermione realized that Harry's jerky movements and screams right before he woke had been reminiscent of someone under the Cruciatus Curse—a watered-down version of the spell to be sure, but there was a similarity nonetheless.</p>
<p>Though Madam Pomfrey clucked about keeping them a bit longer, Dumbledore assured her that Harry was ready to be released.</p>
<p>Fred and George had a party ready for when they returned, which was probably the best thing for Neville, as it distracted everyone from asking him too many questions, and he got to pretend like no one knew anything about his parents at all. For her part, Hermione launched herself at both twins to thank them for their help with Crouch—something they were both a bit surprised by, as they didn't usually behave in ways that earned Hermione's admiration.</p>
<p>"It's all right, Hermione," George said, awkwardly patting the top of her head.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Fred added, "the worst bit is the ridiculous amount of house points Dumbledore gave us—it'll take us forever to come up with enough jokes to lose all of them."</p>
<p>And then Ginny practically tackled Hermione, and Fred and George took that as their opportunity to escape.</p>
<p>"McGonagall wouldn't let us into the hospital wing to see you at <em>all,</em>" Ginny complained. "She was being a daft old cow about it, honestly. But you're okay!"</p>
<p>She looked Hermione over in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Mrs. Weasley.</p>
<p>"I'm fine," Hermione confirmed, smiling brightly at her. It wasn't exactly true. She still saw Crouch's face in her nightmares sometimes, Harry's dream had terrified her, and she still didn't know how to feel about Harry and what his protecting her from the Killing Curse meant. But being back here in Gryffindor Tower, she was starting to feel like herself again.</p>
<p>But then, the next day, they had to face the rest of the school. There were whispers, of course. Everyone had heard the rumors and everyone had read Rita Skeeter's article. Harry and Hermione were used to it by now, though Hermione did have a bit of a shock when she caught a little of what a passing Hufflepuff was whispering to her friend and she heard Quirrell's name—did these nitwits <em>really</em> think that Harry had some sort of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher running body count?</p>
<p>For Neville, the attention was something entirely new and different. A lot of people went out of their way to be nice to him—which was its own brand of awkward—though there were a few unfortunate incidents, the worst of which was Malfoy at the beginning of their Care of Magical Creatures lesson.</p>
<p>"Personally," he whispered loudly to Crabbe and Goyle when Hagrid was busy on the other side of the paddock, helping Lavender and Parvati with their niffler, "I don't know what the big deal is. You'd think Longbottom would be happy that his parents were in St. Mungo's, too addle-brained to know what a disappointment he is."</p>
<p>Harry was ready to fight, automatically raising his wand. Hermione seized his arm, quickly pulling him away from Malfoy and his goons.</p>
<p>But then she'd caught sight of Neville's murderous face—he was partnered with Dean, who was shaking his head in disgust at Malfoy, his own arm clamped on Neville's, heatedly whispering something. The usually amiable Neville looked tortured and ready to kill—and fury ripped through her in a way it hadn't since Malfoy had laughed about Buckbeak's then-impending execution.</p>
<p>With a quick swish and flick of her wrist, she levitated some of the coins their niffler had already retrieved from the ground, and stealthily snuck them into Malfoy's pocket.</p>
<p>As Malfoy tried and failed to swat his niffler away—it raced around and up and down him like a squirrel on a tree—Harry turned to her questioningly—she <em>had </em>just stopped him from acting after all. She smiled sheepishly at him. He laughed, his mouth upturned in a satisfied grin.</p>
<p>Whispers and taunts aside, most everything else got back to normal. During their first breakfast in the Great Hall, Hermione had seen Ron hovering nearby—though he made a hasty exit when Viktor and Fleur both approached, clearly planning to resume their breakfasts together. Apparently, the thought of apologizing in front of his two idols was too much for Ron. Hermione sighed, and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes.</p>
<p>No one talked of the incident during breakfast, though at the end of the meal Harry pulled Fleur and Viktor—and Cedric—aside, and told them what he knew of Crouch's plans for the tournament.</p>
<p>It wasn't much—just that Crouch said he'd put Harry's name in the Goblet of Fire for some sort of plan for You-Know-Who, and that it seemed like there was something important about the third task. Harry, Hermione and Neville had discussed it at length and felt like it was the only right thing to do. The ministry refused to cancel the tournament and the other champions had a right to know.</p>
<p>Though Fleur no longer looked at Harry like he was a little boy, she still seemed the most skeptical of the three.</p>
<p>"How do we know zis man is not just a madman who <em>thinks</em> he's acting on You-Know-Who's orders?" Fleur asked.</p>
<p>It was a reasonable question, and since no one thought it was prudent to announce to the world that Harry had psychic dreams of You-Know-Who, they didn't have much of an answer for her besides "Dumbledore has reason to believe it's true."</p>
<p>This was enough for most wizards in Great Britain, but Fleur was from France, and the most time she'd spent with Dumbledore had been at the Yule Ball dinner when he'd spent a not insignificant portion of the meal discussing chamberpots—and so she did not find him quite as impressive as most witches and wizards did.</p>
<p>Cedric, who confessed to Harry that Crouch had been the one to tell him how to work out the egg, looked pensive.</p>
<p>"But with Crouch gone, it's not like there's much he can do," Cedric reasoned, though he had an unsettled look on his face. "It's not like he could apparate into Hogwarts and mess with the task—there are all sorts of protective enchantments keeping him out."</p>
<p>It seems Hermione was not the only one who had read <em>Hogwarts, A History</em>.</p>
<p>Viktor, who went to a school that taught the dark arts, looked most troubled of them all, easily accepting what Harry said as true. "Ve must all be on our guard then," he said with a nod at Harry.</p>
<p>It made Hermione feel a bit better to know that if You-Know-Who <em>did</em> have something planned for the task—which she was sure would be some sort of obstacle course and so all the champions would be together—that Harry would not be completely alone.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As soon as they could they began training for the third task, spending their evenings in Flitwick's empty classroom so Harry could learn the Stunning Spell. Neville and Hermione took turns being Harry's target. She'd told Neville that she could do it herself—though they used the cushions Flitwick had used when they practiced the banishing charm to break their falls, it still hurt and Neville <em>was</em> still recovering from his stint in the hospital wing—but he steadfastly refused.</p>
<p>"I'm going to help, Hermione," he repeatedly told her, his jaw set and his expression resolute, and so she had relented. Apparently, Neville could be just as stubborn as any other Gryffindor when he wanted.</p>
<p>They trudged back from the Charms corridor late one night—bruised and sore, but exceedingly pleased with themselves, as Harry had seemed to get the hang of it well enough for Hermione to cross it off her list—and Hermione was more than ready for sleep. She bade her friends good night and watched them head up to their dorm. She was about to do the same when Ron rose up from his spot in the armchair near the girls dormitory and approached her.</p>
<p>His ears were red and his motions hesitant. Hermione felt her stomach drop. Harry had told her about their talk, of course. As soon as he returned to the hospital wing, he'd told them all about Sirius, Moody and Pettigrew—they kept waiting to hear <em>something </em>from Amelia Bones, but Neville warned them the ministry could be as slow as a flobberworm sometimes—and then Harry had told them about Ron.</p>
<p>Hermione hadn't known how to feel. After their fight at the Yule Ball, she'd been angry and hurt and undeniably sad; she didn't always make friends easily—though she had to admit, lately it seemed she had a bit of a knack for it—and she'd considered Ron one of her very best friends for a very long time.</p>
<p>And yet…when she looked back on her life the past few months, she hadn't missed the constant drama at all. She hadn't missed the petty fights, the belittling, the raised voices and nasty insults. It had been refreshing to have intellectual debates with Luna and Neville about house elves, to share butterbeers with Angelina and Alicia, to discuss advanced magic with Viktor—and yes, conceited as she might be, even Fleur—without anyone calling anyone else a know-it-all. And, through all those changes, Harry had been Harry, as he always was, a perfect constant in her life.</p>
<p>She felt guilty thinking it, but even with Harry stuck in this blasted murder tournament, even with them dueling an actual Death Eater to the death, her life had felt a lot less stressful lately.</p>
<p>And she couldn't even entirely blame Ron. Yes, he said dumb things, but she wasn't exactly her best self around him either. She didn't<em> like</em> being the sort of person who laughed at her friend's biggest fear or was too stubborn to tell him that she hoped his rat wasn't dead—though she <em>still</em> maintained that even if Crookshanks <em>had </em>killed Scabbers, it wouldn't exactly have been his fault as everyone knows that's just what cats <em>do</em>.</p>
<p>But, regardless, something about Ron brought out the very worst in her and she didn't exactly relish becoming that person ever again.</p>
<p>But what was she supposed to do? Ron had been their friend and Harry didn't have a lot of people in his life—she didn't want to be the reason he lost someone else, too.</p>
<p>And here she was, standing in front of Ron, his hands shoved in the pockets of his robes, looking absolutely everywhere but at her face. She knew what he was about to say, and she was panicking, her mind blank, with no idea what she was going to say in return—no idea what she <em>wanted</em> to say.</p>
<p>"Er, Hermione?" Ron said, clearing his throat, staring at the fireplace just beyond her head.</p>
<p>"Yes?" she asked.</p>
<p>He paused, and they both stared at each other for a few minutes, Ron's eyes dodging hers, as the silence spread out awkwardly between them. "Er…had a good day?" Ron asked, clearly wishing they could get past the apology bit and back to the "being friends" part.</p>
<p>"Thrilling," Hermione responded, frowning and crossing her arms.</p>
<p>Ron looked down sheepishly. "Er, right," he said, taking a deep breath, his hands still firmly clenched in the pockets of his robes. "I'm sorry about the Yule Ball. It wasn't well done of me, and I reckon you would've been well within your rights to hex me that night if you wanted."</p>
<p>"According to the <em>Daily Prophet</em>, I did," Hermione replied.</p>
<p>Ron shook his head in half-amazement, half-remorse. "I can't believe I ever believed anything that barmy woman wrote about Harry," he said. "You lot must've thought I was a nutter."</p>
<p>"Did you actually believe her?" Hermione asked, sitting down in a nearby armchair. She had always just assumed that deep down, Ron knew he was wrong and it had just been his jealousy that had gotten in the way.</p>
<p>Seeing her sitting, asking questions, seemed to energize Ron, and he quickly took a seat too, eager to keep her from stalking off.</p>
<p>"Not <em>really</em>," Ron said. "I suppose I always knew… but it was easier just to… I don't know."</p>
<p>He ran a frustrated hand through his hair, clearly confused by his own motivations—Hermione had never met a teenage boy who was good at self-reflection, and Ron clearly wasn't the one who was going to break the mold.</p>
<p>"Look, obviously I was a git—to both of you," Ron said, shaking his head. "And I was obviously wrong that night—clearly, we both know who's been the better friend to Harry this year."</p>
<p>There was self-recrimination in his voice, tinged with a bit of bitterness.</p>
<p>"I <em>am</em> sorry," he said forcefully, finally managing to look her in the eyes, and she could see the sincerity in them.</p>
<p>It was the first time she could ever remember him apologizing for any of the hurtful things he'd said to her over the years. Maybe it was possible he could change. Maybe, if he did, he <em>wouldn't </em>bring out the worst in her. Maybe Harry could have all of his friends back—it had felt good when he'd put her first, but what sort of friend would she be if she made him choose?</p>
<p>Maybe this all could work out.</p>
<p>"All right," Hermione said, nodding at Ron, and he offered her a timid smile.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The reintegration of Ron did not go exactly as planned.</p>
<p>He joined them for lunch the next day, sitting next to Harry and across from Neville and Hermione. Harry looked to Hermione and saw she had accepted Ron's apology, and nodded, seeming to accept this fact. Neville, however, was quiet.</p>
<p>Granted, he was usually quiet these days. He no longer seemed to be blaming himself for not doing <em>more</em> when Crouch attacked, but Hermione often caught him either in reveries, his mind clearly someplace far away, or glaring at his wand.</p>
<p>But now Neville was looking at Ron warily, his body frozen in an oddly formal posture. He and Ron had always gotten on—they'd even fought Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle together once—but she remembered the steely glint in Neville's eye the night Fred and George had told them about the cat flap and she was suddenly nervous.</p>
<p>Could Neville and Ron still get on?</p>
<p>The meal started off okay, with Ron complaining about their History of Magic lesson earlier that day. Hermione didn't entirely approve of the topic—magical history was <em>really</em> interesting—but she knew <em>that</em> was a losing battle as Binns really did seem to try his best to make it all sound as boring as possible.</p>
<p>And Harry fell into the usual rhythms, joking with Ron about Binns, and for a surreal moment it all felt like it had before, a completely natural return to normal.</p>
<p>"Honestly," Ron said, shaking his head, once he'd exhausted the topic of Binns, "McGonagall must've had it in for us when she made up our schedule—Binns and Snape, both on Friday? Evil is what it is."</p>
<p>Ron looked down to spear a piece of chicken on his fork, so he missed the three-way glance Neville, Hermione and Harry shared. This would be their first class with Snape since Harry and Hermione found out about his past and none of them were feeling particularly happy about it.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry agreed, filling the silence.</p>
<p>"At least you lot have gotten a break from him," Ron muttered, raising his fork to his mouth, but he paused, open-mouthed, when he saw the three of them looking at him askance, not particularly pleased with the thoughtless joke.</p>
<p>"Er—I didn't mean in like<em> that</em>," he mumbled. "Sorry."</p>
<p>Hermione cleared her throat, searching for a new subject. "I think we can start on some other spells tonight—maybe one of the ones that Si—Snuffles suggested?"</p>
<p>"Yeah, all right. I feel pretty good about the Stunning Spell," Harry agreed. He turned to Ron and explained, "I've been practicing spells for the third task. Hermione and Neville have sort of been my guinea pigs."</p>
<p>"I can help," Ron offered, perking up a bit, and Harry smiled at him.</p>
<p>They were in the middle of discussing which spell they should focus on next—Ron thought the Reductor Curse sounded useful but Hermione preferred the Shield Charm—when Luna floated over to their table.</p>
<p>"Hello," she said airily, giving them all a genuine smile.</p>
<p>"Hey Luna," Neville said brightly, the first real smile they'd seen from him all morning. "Sit down."</p>
<p>He scooted over so there was room between him and Hermione, and Luna slid in. She turned to face Hermione, her silvery-gray eyes looking quite serious.</p>
<p>"I've been thinking about the origin issue," she said, referencing their discussion about how house elves came to be enslaved. "And how it's very possible the answer isn't written down anywhere."</p>
<p>"Yes?" Hermione asked, curious. With everything that had gone on, she hadn't had much time to ruminate on the topic.</p>
<p>"I think what we need is someone who was around when it happened," Luna said.</p>
<p>"When what happened?" Ron asked, at the same time Hermione said, "But we don't know when it happened. It could've been thousands of years ago—it likely was."</p>
<p>And then she saw Nearly Headless Nick float by and grinned.</p>
<p>Luna followed Hermione's gaze. "Exactly," she said.</p>
<p>"Ghosts," Hermione whispered, slapping her head to her hand. "Of course! Are any of the ones at Hogwarts that old?" Moaning Myrtle died 50 years ago and Nearly Headless Nick only 500 years ago—but she had no idea about any of the others.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Luna said.</p>
<p>"But someone, somewhere must be that old," Harry offered. "It's not like ghosts only started existing 500 years ago."</p>
<p>"And they should be able to tell us <em>something</em> about house elves," Hermione added happily.</p>
<p>"Hang on," Ron said, befuddled. "Are you still on about that house elf stuff, Hermione?"</p>
<p>"Yes," she replied coolly. "Luna's been very helpful."</p>
<p>Luna beamed at Hermione, but Ron was looking at the blonde skeptically, like he didn't exactly think having Loony Lovegood on your side was a point for the merit of your case.</p>
<p>"Don't," Harry said warningly to Ron.</p>
<p>"But house elves are happy—"</p>
<p>Hermione rolled her eyes, and just as Harry had, she too fell into old rhythms. "Don't give me that rubbish," she snapped.</p>
<p>"You're obsessed with these house elves," Ron insisted, clearly missing the dark look Harry was shooting him, "and—"</p>
<p>"How many house elves have you talked to?" Luna interrupted.</p>
<p>"What?" Ron asked.</p>
<p>Neville, who had caught on to Luna's line of questioning, asked, "You seem to like to tell Hermione what house elves think, so we're curious how many you've talked to?"</p>
<p>Ron's ears went red. "Well, just Winky," he said. "But everyone knows—"</p>
<p>"Oh, everyone <em>knows</em>," Neville snorted incredulously. "Well, if everyone knows, then…"</p>
<p>"What's your problem?" Ron asked, looking between Neville and Luna.</p>
<p>"Hermione and I have done a lot of research on this topic," Luna said. "And we've all been down to the kitchens to talk with the house elves here."</p>
<p>"And I actually live with a house elf, and have interacted with quite a few more, so maybe we know a bit more than someone who has talked to that one house elf that one time," Neville added coolly.</p>
<p>Hermione couldn't help but feel happy at how her friends were defending her, but she flinched a little at Neville's last remark. She knew it wasn't how Neville had intended it, but she also knew that all Ron heard was "I'm rich enough to have a house elf and you're not."</p>
<p>Ron's entire face was flushed and he was staring daggers at Neville.</p>
<p>"Look," Harry started to say, still looking quite angry, but Ron interrupted him.</p>
<p>"You're into this Spew rubbish now, too?" he asked disbelievingly.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I am," Harry said hotly, and Hermione felt her heart soar. "I don't see why you're so surprised—I'm the only one at this table who has <em>actually</em> freed a house elf, aren't I?"</p>
<p>Ron looked like he was grudgingly ready to concede that point.</p>
<p>"Is this actually something worth fighting over?" Harry asked Ron incredulously. "Did you think I was joking when I said you had to treat Hermione better? Insulting her drive to protect magical beings—that's a really brilliant way to start."</p>
<p>Ron's eyes widened in surprise, and Hermione had the sinking feeling that a part of him <em>hadn't</em> thought Harry was really serious when he gave Ron that ultimatum.</p>
<p>"Is it really so important to you to be right about house elves? I always got the impression you didn't care about the lot of them one way or the other," Harry said.</p>
<p>And Ron, amazingly, backed down. "Right," he said, tuning back to look at Hermione. "Sorry."</p>
<p>But it was an awkward mood as they all walked to Potions together, and Hermione was a bit relieved when Ron told them he'd promised Dean and Seamus he'd sit with them.</p>
<p>Hermione slipped into her seat between Neville and Harry and felt her stomach clench. Ron had been right about one thing—Double Potions with Snape was a <em>terrible</em> way to end the week.</p>
<p>Snape swept into the room, his robes flapping behind him, his face fixed in that ever-present look of disgust. Hermione tried to evaluate him dispassionately—his long hair, his hooked nose, his yellow teeth that you could only see when he bared them in a sneer—and then she looked in his eyes and wondered how many people had he killed? Or tortured? Or watched be killed and tortured by some of his Death Eater buddies?</p>
<p>With a wave of his arm, the instructions were on the board.</p>
<p>"Proceed," Snape said.</p>
<p>He weaved his way through the desks until he reached their table. Hermione could feel his eyes on them and, to her utter horror, her hand started to shake, messing up the root she had so painstakingly been cutting.</p>
<p>"Ah, yes," Snape said silkily, "I see you three have deigned to attend classes again."</p>
<p>"If you have a problem with our absence, I suggest you take it up with Madam Pomfrey," Harry retorted, "seeing as how she was the one who kept us out of class."</p>
<p>"Yes, well, the other members of the staff <em>do </em>have a way of indulging you, don't they, Potter?" Snape sneered as Harry glared openly at him. "God forbid poor, precious Potter get a hangnail."</p>
<p>Hermione's jaw dropped. She knew he hated Harry, but Snape wasn't an idiot—he had to know exactly the sort of spells Crouch had used against them.</p>
<p>"You can't be seri—" she started to say, but Harry put his hand on her arm to stop her.</p>
<p>"Don't, Hermione," Harry said, turning to look at her. There was a mischievous glint in his green eyes. "He's obviously just trying to bait us into losing points for Gryffindor. The points Dumbledore gave us for stopping Crouch have pretty much guaranteed a Gryffindor win."</p>
<p>Dumbledore <em>had</em> given them an obscene amount of points.</p>
<p>Snape looked like he had stepped in something particularly foul-smelling. He glanced down at Neville, who was stirring gnat heads into his potion.</p>
<p>"Longbottom," he barked, "you're supposed to add those <em>after</em> the Billywig wings. I know it's too much to ask, but do <em>try</em> to be a step above completely hopeless, will you? Even someone as gormless as you should be able to follow simple directions."</p>
<p>Neville flushed as Snape stalked off. Ron turned and gave Neville a sympathetic glance.</p>
<p>"Forget him, Neville," Harry muttered.</p>
<p>Hermione turned to look at Harry, trying to understand. He hated Snape as much as they did, and yet, he hadn't been phased by Snape at all. She'd been expecting to see a dangerous gleam in his eyes, and instead, he'd joked about house points.</p>
<p>"How are you so calm?" she whispered.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "I don't know," he whispered back. "But I've always thought Snape was evil—so it was less of a shock for me, wasn't it?"</p>
<p>Yes, Hermione thought, narrowing her eyes as she followed Snape's movements across the room. He <em>was</em> evil. Forget what happened 15 years ago: Snape regularly and systematically tried to tear his students down. He <em>had</em> to be stopped. All she needed was a plan.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The mood amongst Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron was vastly improved during Harry's training session that night. A common enemy—Snape—always put boys in better spirits, and they approached the shield charm with gusto.</p>
<p>Ron volunteered to be Harry's opponent, eager to be helpful.</p>
<p>Hermione and Neville sat at a desk in the empty classroom, with Hermione checking her book occasionally to call out helpful notes for Harry. Neville was mostly quiet, watching Ron and Harry spar.</p>
<p>"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, watching Neville carefully.</p>
<p>"What?" he asked, turning to her with a look of surprise on his face. "Yeah, of course. Why wouldn't I be?"</p>
<p>"You didn't seem pleased when Ron joined us at lunch," Hermione said quietly, glancing over at Harry and Ron to be sure they wouldn't overhear.</p>
<p>Neville stiffened, but seemed to be choosing his words carefully. "I won't lie and say I'm his biggest fan," he finally said, shaking his head. "After what Fred and George told us about Harry's aunt and uncle—I don't know that I'll ever think of him the same way I did before."</p>
<p>He turned to look at Hermione. "And I don't like the way he talks to you," he said fiercely, lowering his voice to avert attention. "But if you and Harry want to be friends with him…" He trailed off, shrugging. "I've tolerated worse."</p>
<p>"We should've talked to you before—"</p>
<p>"Nah," Neville said, smiling at her. "You were friends with him for a long time. His fight was with you two, not me. I'd have to be a pretty big prat to make that all about me."</p>
<p>Hermione grinned. "You, Neville Longbottom, are no prat," she said.</p>
<p>"No," Neville replied, glancing down at the desk, which held her book and his wand. "Just hopeless with a wand. We're actually lucky Ron's here, or who knows what I'd do to Harry with <em>that.</em>"</p>
<p>He looked down at his wand in disgust.</p>
<p>Hermione tucked some hair behind her ear, plowing ahead with her next question. "Have you… have you used your wand since… since Crouch did?" she asked.</p>
<p>Neville fidgeted in his seat. "Not exactly," he confessed, sighing. "Every time I hold it, it doesn't <em>feel</em> right. Granted, it's never felt right—it's not even mine, it's my dad's, but Gran… Well, she insisted on it. She gave it to me when I got my Hogwarts letter like it was the best present in the world. But none of that matters now because every time I hold that wand, it doesn't feel like my wand, or even my dad's wand—it feels like <em>him</em>."</p>
<p>His voice was low and there was a savage undertone to it, something Hermione had never heard from Neville before. She didn't like it.</p>
<p>"Would your Gran buy a new one?" she asked delicately.</p>
<p>Neville turned red. "She thinks it's an honor, being my dad's wand and all," he mumbled.</p>
<p>"But surely now, after everything that's happened, if you told her how you felt, she'd have to understand," Hermione argued.</p>
<p>Neville looked at her like she'd said the most mental thing in the world. "Gran doesn't talk about feelings," he practically laughed.</p>
<p>At the horrified look on her face, he added, "Oh, it's not as bad as all that. I know she loves me. She just doesn't talk about those things."</p>
<p>Hermione stared at him, amazed. How was it possible that Neville and Harry—the two most likable people she knew—had been saddled with such emotionally awful families?</p>
<p>"Yes!" Ron whooped, as Harry successfully defended against his Leg-Locker Curse, breaking Hermione and Neville's concentration. Harry was grinning from ear to ear—it had been a fairly feeble shield charm, but it had done the job well enough, and it was a good start.</p>
<p>Figuring that was a good place to end, they returned to the common room. Neville went up to the dorm and Ron joined his brothers for a game of exploding snap, which Harry and Hermione declined. Instead, they collapsed onto a sofa by the fire. They sat in companionable silence, while Hermione absentmindedly watched Cormac McLaggen trying—and failing—to talk to Katie Bell across the room.</p>
<p>"What were you and Neville talking about back there?" Harry asked curiously. Hermione turned to look at him. He was sprawled lazily on the couch, foot propped up on the coffee table, looking particularly relaxed, but his eyes were watching her intently.</p>
<p>She blushed. "I hoped you and Ron hadn't noticed," she said.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "Ron didn't," he replied.</p>
<p>Hermione felt a wave of relief.</p>
<p>"Good," she said, turning her body so she had her back against the arm of the sofa, one knee up on the cushions, so she was facing Harry more fully. "Neville's not…Ron's biggest fan. See, he was there when Fred and George told us about the Dursleys and the cat flap, so… he doesn't think a whole lot of Ron's friendship."</p>
<p>As soon as she mentioned the cat flap, Harry looked rather uncomfortable, and it only increased when he realized the entirety of what she said.</p>
<p>"So he doesn't like Ron?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I don't think that Neville hates him or anything—he just wouldn't be Neville's first choice to spend time with. He's not against us being friends with Ron, though," she assured him.</p>
<p>Harry considered that.</p>
<p>"Things were a bit weird though, weren't they?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. "Well, they're bound to be, aren't they?" she reasoned. "None of us are the same people we were last fall."</p>
<p><em>She </em>certainly wasn't.</p>
<p>"I imagine it'll take us awhile to figure it all out," Hermione added.</p>
<p>"It used to be so easy," he said, rather glumly.</p>
<p>"Well, how did it feel for you? Hanging out with Ron again?" she asked.</p>
<p>"There were moments when it felt right, when it felt like I had gotten my friend back," Harry answered honestly. "But then there were times when it just felt completely wrong. When he said you were obsessed with house elves, <em>that</em> felt like nothing had changed either. He insulted you and he insulted…"</p>
<p>"You?" Hermione supplied.</p>
<p>Harry grimaced, and when he spoke, his voice was low. "I told him he needed to change, and it's like he didn't believe me—<em>again</em>."</p>
<p>Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that. People thinking he was a liar was a hot button for Harry, and it's not like she could defend Ron on that front.</p>
<p>"It'll get easier," Hermione declared more confidently than she felt. Or, she thought, Ron would continue to act like a jerk and they'd know that it was time to move on.</p>
<p>Harry furrowed his brow, contemplating her words.</p>
<p>"Maybe I should write to Lupin," Harry said. "He sort of went through something similar with Sirius."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded slowly. "I think that's a good idea," she said.</p>
<p>"So that's all you two talked about—Ron?"</p>
<p>"No," Hermione admitted. "I think Neville's still really struggling with everything with Crouch—he doesn't even want to use his wand."</p>
<p>"He <em>shouldn't</em> be using that wand," Harry said darkly. "It's not even his. Ollivander told me that the wand chooses the wizard."</p>
<p>"I don't know if it's just the wand that's the problem though," Hermione said, drawing her knees up to reposition herself. "Don't get me wrong—I agree about that—but I think it's just going to take time to get past what Crouch did to him."</p>
<p>"And what, we're just supposed to sit idly by like nothing's wrong? What are we supposed to do in the meantime?" Harry asked, a bit impatiently.</p>
<p>Hermione raised her eyebrow. "Be his friend?" she said, feeling as though it was a bit obvious.</p>
<p>He gave her a look and she laughed a little. "Oh come on, Harry. No one knows what Neville feels like better than you do," she said. "If anyone's going to know what to say or do, it's you."</p>
<p>Harry looked a little disbelieving. "I'm not good with words like you are," he said.</p>
<p>"You do all right," she said. He always found a way to find the right words to say to her, whether it was pulling her out of an anxiety spiral or comforting her at the Yule Ball.</p>
<p>"Maybe he just needs a change of scenery," Harry suggested. "Somewhere people aren't constantly whispering about him—somewhere Draco Malfoy <em>isn't</em>."</p>
<p>"Break is coming up," Hermione suggested. "We really should be at Hogwarts—there's so much work to do and you've got to keep training—but maybe we could go to my house for it."</p>
<p>She frowned, thinking through her plan. "Though I doubt Dumbledore would let you with You-Know-Who out there," she added. Her parents wouldn't be much help against a Dark Lord.</p>
<p>But Harry looked at her like she was brilliant. "But maybe he would give me permission to go to Neville's," he said.</p>
<p>"It doesn't seem like that's exactly what we're looking for," Hermione frowned. "Neville's gran's not the warmest person."</p>
<p>"No," Harry agreed, but he looked excited nonetheless, "but he'd still have us. Plus, it would be far from the Slytherins, and I'd still be able to train—and we'd have two weeks to convince her to buy Neville a new wand."</p>
<p>Hermione considered that—the plan certainly had its merits.</p>
<p>And when they ran it past Neville, he was fully on board.</p>
<p>"We can use my parents' Auror Room," he said excitedly. "No one's been in it in ages, but I think all of the enchantments should still hold."</p>
<p>"What's an Auror Room?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"You know, like a practice room," Neville said. "It's soundproof and blastproof, and it's got everything you need to practice dueling and spells."</p>
<p>And so they decided to go to Neville's. It took some convincing—Dumbledore didn't think it was wise for Harry to leave Hogwarts, but Harry reminded him that You-Know-Who was just as dangerous last summer as he was now, and no one had a problem with him going to the Burrow. And then Augusta Longbottom pointed out that it wasn't exactly Dumbledore's decision—if he pushed back, she'd just ask the Dursleys to overrule him.</p>
<p>"I'd pay all the galleons in my vault to see a conversation between Neville's Gran and Uncle Vernon," Harry admitted, laughing at the thought.</p>
<p>Finally, Neville's Gran agreed that Dumbledore could put her house under the Fidelius Charm if he wanted—"Honestly, if it means I don't have to get any more visits from that awful Doris Macmillan, it'll be worth it," she said—and Dumbledore agreed to let them go.</p>
<p>And that's how Hermione, Harry, Neville, Ron and Ginny ended up on platform nine and three-quarters for Easter break. It was much busier than it usually was during the break. Students usually stayed at school to revise, but after what happened with Crouch, a lot of magical parents decided they wanted their kids to come home for break—Molly Weasley had insisted on it—so the only people left at Hogwarts were mostly muggleborns; Slytherins, whose parents likely knew that they were safe from any Death Eaters; and free spirits like Luna.</p>
<p>The train ride was uneventful enough—there was no talk of house elves or anything else that could start a fight—and Harry seemed in particularly good spirits, playing a game of exploding snap with Ron and Ginny.</p>
<p>But now they were on the platform, craning their necks for the Weasleys and Augusta Longbottom. Ginny, the shortest of the group, wasn't bothering to look, so she was the first to notice when Crookshanks strayed too far from them.</p>
<p>"Hermione!" she warned, and Hermione chased after her cat. He liked to explore, and while he was a very smart cat and would always come back, this wasn't the time or place for it.</p>
<p>She pushed through a group of Hufflepuffs and found Crookshanks sniffing around near Cho Chang and her friends. Hermione gathered him in her arms and made her way back to her friends.</p>
<p>Fred, George and Mrs. Weasley were with them, and Mrs. Weasley had gathered Harry into a huge hug. "Oh, we didn't know you'd be here," Mrs. Weasley cried, looking reproachfully at Ron. "Ron never told us you were coming, too! But of course you're welcome at the Burrow, Harry!"</p>
<p>She smiled widely at him, and Harry smiled back at her, clearly relieved that she didn't fault him for the fight he'd had with Ron this year.</p>
<p>"Thanks," Harry said, "but actually, I'm going to Neville's this break."</p>
<p>Mrs. Weasley looked between the three boys, shock evident on her face. "Oh," she said, surprised. "That's nice then." She looked unsurely between Ron and Harry, trying to size up the situation.</p>
<p>As Hermione sidled her way back to the group and next to Harry, Mrs. Weasley saw her and narrowed her eyes, her expression frosting over immediately.</p>
<p>"Oh," she said. "Hello, Hermione." She said it entirely too formally.</p>
<p>Hermione faltered, instinctively clutching Crookshanks tighter to her. What had she ever done to Mrs. Weasley?</p>
<p>"Hi," Hermione said uncertainly.</p>
<p>Harry looked confused, Ron looked embarrassed and Ginny rolled her eyes at her mother. She gave Hermione a look that clearly meant "Don't worry about it," and Hermione knew she wasn't imagining it. Did Mrs. Weasley really believe that rubbish Rita Skeeter had written about her? She knew that she didn't know the woman well, but she had spent a month living in her house. Did she actually think Hermione was feeding Harry love potions and going around hexing Ron?</p>
<p>Harry had clearly come to the same conclusion Hermione had. "Mrs. Weasley," he said, "you know all that rubbish Rita Skeeter wrote about Hermione was garbage, right? We never dated, and she's only friends with Viktor."</p>
<p>"Oh," Mrs. Weasley said, "well, of course, dear." But she smiled more warmly at Hermione after that.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. Did Mrs. Weasley really think so little of her?</p>
<p>"And for the record," Ginny announced, "<em>I'm</em> the one who hexed Ron—because your son was being a prat."</p>
<p>At Ron's look of protest, Ginny rolled her eyes again. "Well, you <em>were</em>," she insisted, earning a snicker from the twins.</p>
<p>Mrs. Weasley eyed Ron carefully, and he tugged at his collar uncomfortably. It was clear he was going to have a very unpleasant conversation with his mother over break. She hustled her kids away, and with one last wave from Ginny, the Weasleys were gone.</p>
<p>Harry watched them go with a frown on his face.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>Harry turned to Hermione, and there was both anger and confusion in his eyes. "I can't believe she actually thought that of you," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione tried to put herself in Mrs. Weasley's shoes. "She was just being protective of you—and Ron, I suppose," she said.</p>
<p>But Harry wasn't buying it. "Still," he said. "She should've known better."</p>
<p>Hermione smiled at her friends. "Well, you two know better and that's all that matters," she said.</p>
<p>"Besides," she added dryly, turning to look back at where the Weasleys had just disappeared, "I have a feeling Ginny's going to disabuse her mum of any ridiculous notions she might have."</p>
<p>"There you three are!"</p>
<p>The trio turned to see Augusta Longbottom striding toward them, stray students still milling about jumping out of her way. Small as she was, she looked formidable, even in that ridiculous vulture hat.</p>
<p>"Come on then," she said, giving Neville a perfunctory kiss hello and nodding at Harry and Hermione.</p>
<p>Hermione turned to look at Harry. It was time to put their plan in motion and go to Neville's—wherever that might be.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry wasn't certain how they were going to get to Neville's home until Augusta Longbottom made an abrupt stop, turned to them and called, "Diggy!"</p><p>Instantaneously, a house elf dressed in a meticulous tea cozy apparated by her side. Whereas Dobby—the house elf Harry knew best—had a nervous streak running through him, anxiety often taking over his upbeat personality at the most inopportune times, Diggy was bubbly and energetic and incredibly positive. Harry supposed that probably came from not living a lifetime in a house where you were routinely punished for the smallest infractions.</p><p>Diggy was most pleased to meet Harry and Hermione—but Hermione in particular. "Master Neville says you're the brightest witch," Diggy gushed. "Always helping him with his classes—a good and sweet witch he says!"</p><p>And Hermione, who had never gotten the warmest of receptions from house elves, seemed charmed by Diggy. Then Augusta ordered Diggy to take Neville and Hermione home, and Hermione looked like she'd smelled something foul, clearly remembering that Diggy was without much free will. Harry doubted Hermione would last a night before the topic of house-elf freedom came up.</p><p>Augusta took Harry's arm in her hand. "I promised Dumbledore you'd stick with me," she said, and before he knew what was happening, she apparated them both.</p><p>Harry felt his insides twisting around, felt like the walls were pressing in around him, as everything went black. He couldn't speak, couldn't breathe, and just when he thought he was about to pass out, everything was suddenly still, and he could see Hermione peering at him anxiously.</p><p>"Harry, are you all right? You look a little green," she said, not looking particularly peppy herself.</p><p>"Fine," he wheezed out, as Augusta Longbottom looked at him with what he thought was a particularly judgmental face. It wasn't <em>his</em> fault that every wizarding method of transportation except flying was an exercise in torture.</p><p>He looked around. They were standing in a neat lane halfway up a valley. There was nothing else around them.</p><p>"Er—where's your house?" Harry asked.</p><p>Augusta Longbottom procured a slip of paper from her red purse and handed it to the three of them to read. In loopy handwriting that Harry recognized as Dumbledore's were the words: Wiggentree Manor.</p><p>Harry looked up and the once-empty valley was now occupied by a large stone house—it was certainly the largest house Harry had ever been invited to, though he supposed it was probably rather small for something called a manor. The house was covered in ivy and in front was a neatly manicured lawn with hedges lining the drive. The hedges were unusual, however, in that they were all in the shape of dancers and were moving around, performing to some unheard tune.</p><p>"The hedges change shape every so often," Neville said, looking a little embarrassed.</p><p>"They're brilliant!" Hermione declared. She caught Harry's eye and smiled, and Harry had an image of her in a periwinkle dress, beaming delightedly at him, while he twirled her around the dance floor. He had been dreading that night in the worst way, but it had turned out to be one of the best in his life.</p><p>They walked closer to the house, Augusta Longbottom levitating their bags behind them. Inside, the house was neat and ordered, if a bit dated. Everything was very formal, and it all looked like it had been decorated in the same manner as Augusta Longbottom's very traditional robes and awful vulture hat—which is to say there clearly hadn't been any updates in at least 50 years. But whereas her hat was moth-eaten, the house was meticulous; the old-fashioned wallpaper might be faded, and the furniture was certainly lived in—by quite a few generations, it seemed—but everything gleamed. Harry doubted even Aunt Petunia could find fault with the cleanliness of this house.</p><p>Behind the house was a well-kept knot garden that led out toward the lake—surrounded on one side by a copse of trees—and a greenhouse that rivaled the size of one at Hogwarts.</p><p>Neville looked at them apprehensively. "What do you think?" he asked.</p><p>"It's lovely," Hermione said.</p><p>"Brilliant," Harry added.</p><p>Neville showed them to their rooms. Harry was put in a blue guestroom across from Neville's that was twice the size of his room at the Dursleys, while Hermione was given a yellow bedroom about a mile away. Apparently, Augusta Longbottom had some very old-fashioned ideas about boys and girls being friends.</p><p>They took a quick tour of the home. Harry was certain he'd get lost as many of the rooms seemed to just be an assortment of parlor rooms with mismatched furniture and ornate mirrors, chandeliers and ironwork that Hermione correctly identified as goblin-made. The standouts were the kitchen, one of the few rooms in the house that seemed delightfully homey; the portrait room, which was filled with Longbottom ancestors good-naturedly bantering with each other—though Harry noticed the empty frames on the wall, which he assumed Augusta and Neville's parents would eventually fill; and the Auror Room, which at first glance looked like nothing at all.</p><p>It was an empty room with stone walls and a bare floor, and when the trio walked inside, they could hear their footsteps echoing.</p><p>"How does it work?" Hermione asked.</p><p>"Just tap this stone over here with your wand," Neville said, indicating a grey stone that was darker than the others. "And then it responds to verbal commands."</p><p>Harry tapped the stone as indicated, and while nothing in particular happened, except for the door shutting firmly behind them, the whole room seemed to hum to life. He looked to Neville—what was he supposed to say?</p><p>"Reductor Curse," Neville said.</p><p>As soon as he said the words, a row of five circular discs, each larger than the next, popped up in front of them, hovering, just waiting for Harry to blast them.</p><p>Harry grinned, and aimed for the first disc. "Reducto!" he shouted. The disc cracked.</p><p>Hermione frowned. "I think it's supposed to be more of a swish," she said.</p><p>Harry tried again and this time he created a fairly significant hole in the disc as it blasted out of the way. Grinning, he tried the larger objects, and got similar results.</p><p>"This is great!" he exclaimed.</p><p>"Now watch this," Neville said. "Reductor Curse, moving target."</p><p>Now all the discs reappeared, fully whole, but this time, they whizzed about the room. Harry and Hermione ran around, trying to aim their curses correctly, but it was a lot tougher with a moving target. Harry, who was used to having to keep his eye trained on the snitch, anticipating where it might move next, fared considerably better than Hermione, even managing to shatter one of the discs into what must have been a thousand pieces.</p><p>"Neville, don't you want to try?" Hermione asked, after a bout of laughter as Harry had to do a particularly stupid looking twirl to get out of the way of one of the discs.</p><p>Neville looked down at his wand hesitantly. "No thanks," he said.</p><p>"Are you sure?" Harry asked.</p><p>Neville looked down at his watch. "We'd better go," he said awkwardly. "Dinner's almost ready."</p><p>He walked quickly toward the door, while Hermione tapped the stone on the wall to turn off the room. Neville led them out into the corridor, hurrying past a closed door that hadn't been part of their tour.</p><p>They sat down to a rather late dinner in an incredibly stuffy formal dining room, all seated at one end of a very long table with Augusta at the head. Looking down the length of the table—he could hardly see the other end and was quite sure they could fit most of Gryffindor here—Harry could only imagine how lonely eating in this room must be for just the two of them.</p><p>Just like at Hogwarts, Diggy magically transported their dinner to the table. Hermione frowned slightly, but to Harry's surprise, still didn't say anything.</p><p>The dinner was delicious—roast chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy—with samosas as an appetizer and treacle tart for dessert. Harry had a suspicion that Neville directed Diggy to make those in particular—treacle tart was Harry's favorite dessert and Hermione's parents tended to have a more expansive palate than they got at Hogwarts. She'd probably had more servings of shepherd's pie and bangers and mash by the end of her first year of school than she'd had in her entire life prior to that combined.</p><p>For his part, Harry was touched by Neville's thoughtfulness.</p><p>"What'd you think of the Auror Room?" Augusta asked.</p><p>"Oh, it's great," Hermione gushed.</p><p>"We'll be able to get a lot done for the third task in there, thank you," Harry added.</p><p>"It was really quite a lot of fun to practice in there," Hermione commented, propping her chin in her hand. "I wish Hogwarts had something like it."</p><p>"Oh?" Augusta asked, looking between Neville and Hermione. "You two tried it out too?"</p><p>"No," Neville answered quietly. "Just Hermione."</p><p>Augusta Longbottom snorted and gave her grandson a look that clearly demonstrated how disappointed—and unsurprised—she was by that answer. Neville looked down miserably and Hermione shot a panicked look at Harry—they had to get him a new wand.</p><p>The question was how?</p><hr/><p>They spent the entirety of the next morning in the Auror Room, working on the Reductor Curse and perfecting Harry's Shield Charm. By the time lunch was served, Harry had managed to protect himself against most of Hermione's hexes and jinxes—but Neville still declined to join in, looking at his wand in trepidation as he did.</p><p>"We've just got to ask your gran for a new wand," Harry said as they were sitting at the kitchen table eating their sandwiches.</p><p>Neville shook his head. "You don't understand," he said. "It was my dad's."</p><p>"So that means you've got to use it forever?" Harry asked. It was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.</p><p>"When it comes to my dad, she's not always…" Neville trailed off.</p><p>"Rational?" Hermione offered, a disapproving look marring her face.</p><p>"Well—yeah," Neville admitted, dropping his sandwich and propping his head in his hands.</p><p>"Neville," Hermione said carefully, with a quick glance at Harry, "I know she's your grandmother, but that doesn't mean she's always right. You've got to be able to talk to her about these things."</p><p>Neville looked like he would rather have a lovely chat with Fluffy.</p><p>"Look, I know I'm not as brave as you two are," he said miserably. "But—"</p><p>"Oh, come off it, Neville," Harry interrupted. "You're plenty brave. We just—we just need to figure out the right approach."</p><p>He looked desperately at Hermione, clearly expecting her to know just what to do. Hermione furrowed her brow.</p><p>"Yes, right," she said. "Well… what does your grandmother respond well to?"</p><p>"Appeals to family honor," Neville answered. "People who remind her of my dad—who are talented and daring and brave and never back down from a fight."</p><p>Hermione cocked her eyebrow at Harry as if to say, "Right then. It's up to you."</p><p>Wanting to cheer Neville up, Harry asked him what he'd like to do that afternoon. And so, Neville took them on a tour of the grounds—through the gardens, and by the lake and, finally, into the greenhouse.</p><p>It was a long building with rows filled with plants—Harry recognized the gillyweed over in the eastern corner growing at the edges of a small pond. Each area of the greenhouse seemed to have a different climate, one that suited whichever plant was situated there. The back wall was completely covered in moss, with the exception of a small curved door in the corner.</p><p>Neville took them through the rows—Dittany and Moly and Aconite—perking up as they went before they arrived at the curved door at the moss wall.</p><p>"So this next bit is technically still in the greenhouse," he said, "though it'll look like we're outside. It's been enchanted to bloom all year round."</p><p>He pushed through the door and they entered what looked like an outdoor space surrounded on the other three sides by tall walls covered in ivy—there was a breeze and everything—but it was considerably warmer than it had been outside. There was a sprawling dirt path beneath them, and everywhere exploded with flowers—rose bushes, peonies, tulips, daffodils, azaleas, snapdragons, delphiniums, larkspurs, poppies and pansies, lilacs, hyacinths, lavender—and right in the center was a large flowering Wiggentree with what looked like a swing settled right below it.</p><p>Harry wasn't the most accomplished gardener, but he was fairly certain not all of these flowers should be in bloom at the same time, but that was the point of magic, he supposed. It was all arranged in a chaotic non-arrangement that reminded him of Luna's transfiguration at the Yule Ball. It was bright and wild and beautiful all at the same time.</p><p>"<em>Oh!" </em>Hermione cried, twirling around slowly in wonder. She looked positively enchanted, her eyes alight with pleasure, and her face bore the most dazzling smile.</p><p>As Harry watched her taking in their surroundings, breathing in the fragrant smell of the flowers with a look of utter delight on her face, an odd thought struck him: She was really beautiful.</p><p>It's not that he had thought her ugly before—certainly, she'd looked very pretty at the Yule Ball—but in all honesty, he didn't usually think about whether she was pretty or not. She was just Hermione, with her chocolate-brown, sharp-witted eyes, and who usually bore a wrinkle in her forehead as she was always stressed about something—sometimes classes, but usually she was worried about him. But here, in the garden, her face was open and carefree, and Harry wished she looked like that all of the time. He felt a bit guilty for being a consistent source of stress for her.</p><p>"Oh," she whispered reverently, "you have a secret garden."</p><p>"It's not secret," Neville replied, confusion evident on his face. "It's been here for ages."</p><p>"No," Hermione laughed, a tinkling sound that made Harry smile. "As in <em>The Secret Garden.</em> It was my favorite book growing up!"</p><p>"Cool!" Neville said, but it was clear he had never heard of it.</p><p>Hermione turned and caught Harry staring, and her smile faded as she brought her hand up to her face self-consciously.</p><p>"What?" she asked hesitantly. "Have I got something…"</p><p>And Harry, not wanting to admit to her and to Neville that he'd just been staring at her like some sort of nitwit, searched for something to say.</p><p>"No," he said quickly, wracking his brains. "I guess I always just assumed you were more of a <em>Matilda</em> reader."</p><p>There, he thought, a bit proud of himself. That was a pretty good save.</p><p>Hermione frowned slightly. "Oh," she said. "Well, I've read it, of course. But Roald Dahl's not really my <em>thing</em>. He's too dark for me."</p><p>"<em>The Secret Garden </em>is about a spoiled orphan and her fake-crippled cousin," Harry said dryly, her comment bringing him out of his stupor.</p><p>"Well, yes," Hermione admitted. "But it's all about tone, isn't it? <em>The Secret Garden</em> is a story about hope and rejuvenation and springtime. It's not supposed to be funny like Dahl's work is. I just don't really find the humor in headmistresses who torture their students or want to read about little boys who get turned into mice forever."</p><p>Harry had quite liked the stories. Every time Dudley watched <em>Willy Wonka &amp; The Chocolate Factory</em> on the telly—which admittedly wasn't very many times as the Dursleys didn't like anything that wasn't "normal"—Harry had always imagined it was Dudley getting sucked up by the chocolate river or falling down a chute for being spoiled.</p><p>"Why?" Hermione asked. "What was your favorite book growing up?"</p><p>Harry fidgeted uncomfortably. "<em>James and the Giant Peach," </em>he answered, feeling his neck getting hotter.</p><p>"Oh," Hermione said, and from the compassionate look in her eyes, he could tell she understood why perfectly. "Well, yes. That makes sense."</p><p>She nodded at him and her lips curved into a smile. "I think that one's quite good."</p><p>She was lying, of course. If Hermione didn't like bullying headmistresses, she definitely didn't like bullying aunts, but he appreciated her gesture nonetheless.</p><p>"I literally have no idea what either of you are talking about," Neville said, looking a little lost.</p><p>Hermione laughed again, and Harry felt cheered, as the three walked to the swing under the Wiggentree and Hermione explained some of the basic plots of the books they had been talking about.</p><p>After another brilliant dinner, during which Hermione somehow refrained from saying anything about Diggy—though she had to keep biting her lip rather forcefully—and a night spent in the sitting room playing exploding snap, the pair said goodnight to a reading Neville and walked up the stairs together.</p><p>"How have you <em>not </em>said something about Diggy?" Harry finally asked as they clambered up.</p><p>Hermione shot him a look. "Well, I <em>can't</em>," she said. "Not until we get Neville his new wand. But we'd better do it soon because I honestly think I'm going to explode."</p><p>Frustration was etched in her face and she looked rather grumpy.</p><p>Harry, who was used to living with stubborn, set-in-their-ways people—not that he thought Augusta Longbottom was nearly as bad as the Dursleys; at least she cared whether Neville lived or died—tried to think of the ways he'd gotten Uncle Vernon to do what he wanted.</p><p>Mostly, Harry tricked him—he used his convicted murderer godfather or threatened to make a scene when the Masons were coming over. Was there a way to trick Neville's gran into it? The Sirius excuse wouldn't exactly work with her, but maybe there was a way to make her think it was all her own idea?</p><p>Or was it better to just confront her directly? Neville <em>did</em> say she respected people who were stubborn and daring.</p><p>He was still mulling it over as he got ready for bed. He had just pulled the covers back on the enormous cherry wood bed when he heard a soft knock at the door.</p><p>"Come in!" he called, and Neville poked his head inside.</p><p>"What's up?" Harry asked.</p><p>Neville shuffled in, clutching something to his chest. "Er, I asked Diggy to pull this out of storage," Neville said.</p><p>He held the object out to Harry. It was a blanket made of the softest material Harry had ever felt. And yet, as he unfolded it, it was like no blanket he had ever seen before. It was dark—though Harry couldn't tell if it was black, midnight purple or a deep blue—and scattered throughout the blanket were stars. It was as if someone went outside and captured the real night sky, and shrank it down in size.</p><p>Examining the stars closer, Harry saw that it was an exact replica. Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Cassiopeia, Andromeda, Pegasus—all were in their right spots. Looking at it, it felt like it went on endlessly, like he was looking at something light years away. And yet, it was right in front of him, solid in his hands.</p><p>Every once in awhile, a shooting star shot past.</p><p>"Do you—do you have anything like this from when you were little?" Neville asked.</p><p>"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "The only thing I've got from my parents is my cloak. Even if I ever had one, Aunt Petunia would've burned it if she saw it. The Dursleys thought anything remotely magical was a stain on their house."</p><p>Including him.</p><p>He traced the edges of the blanket. It was lined with a silver thread, and then like a punch to the gut, he realized why Neville was asking. There, in the corner, the silver thread expanded into the shape of a flower—a lily.</p><p>When Sirius told them his mother had made them both baby blankets, Harry had expected something knitted—something like what Mrs. Weasley usually made. Harry had never expected anything like <em>this</em>.</p><p>"Gran always said this is a good bit of magic," Neville whispered.</p><p>Harry felt his throat getting tighter. He'd never had something of his mother's before. But she'd created this. And somewhere there was a blanket just like this that she had created for him.</p><p>Harry felt his insides twisting, imagining Aunt Petunia setting fire to it in her perfectly designed house, which she worked very hard to bear no remnants of Harry.</p><p>Oh god, Harry thought, hoping more than anything that Hagrid hadn't wrapped him up in this blanket when he'd taken him to the Dursleys.</p><p>Harry stared down at the blanket reverently—his mum had been <em>brilliant</em>.</p><p>Neville cleared his throat. "You should keep it," he said.</p><p>Harry's head shot up, and he knew his eyes were wide as saucers. "But it's yours," he said, and to his embarrassment, his voice sounded strained.</p><p>Neville shook his head. "No, your mum made it. I want you to have it."</p><p>Harry looked down at the blanket again.</p><p>"Thank you," he whispered, not taking his eyes off his mum's handiwork. He felt Neville pat him on the shoulder, and then heard him turn to leave the room.</p><p>"Good night, Harry, "he said.</p><p>"Good night, Neville."</p><p>Harry climbed into bed and stayed up late into the night, watching as the blanket's night sky transformed into one nebula after another, before finally returning to its original design.</p><p>As he finally fell asleep he had one last thought—this had been a really good day.</p><hr/><p>He woke up the next morning and the first thing he saw was his mum's blanket.</p><p>Right, he thought, energized by Neville's gift. It was time to return the favor.</p><p>So when they went to the Auror Room that morning, Harry stood determinedly in front of Neville.</p><p>"Neville," he said. "It's your turn."</p><p>"I don't want to," Neville said. "Honest."</p><p>And so, Harry stuck out his hand and offered up his wand. "Try mine."</p><p>Neville looked at him curiously. "Really?" he asked.</p><p>Harry shrugged. "Why not?"</p><p>Hermione looked a little anxious—she was biting her lip and shooting Harry a look that said, "What if the borrowed wand works just as poorly as Neville's? Then he'll think it really is his fault."</p><p>But Harry was certain it would be all right.</p><p>Neville took Harry's wand cautiously and moved to the center of the room.</p><p>"Summoning Charm," Harry called out, knowing it was a spell Neville had never quite mastered, and a pile of pillows popped into the center of the room.</p><p>"Accio pillow!" Neville shouted, and to his surprise, one of the pillows flew across the room and landed a few feet in front of him.</p><p>Neville blinked in surprise. "I've never done that before," he said.</p><p>Hermione grinned. "Try mine," she offered, and Neville handed Harry back his wand and tried out Hermione's. This time, the pillow flew directly at him, and Neville, astonished that it had actually worked, forgot to catch it and it hit him full on in the face.</p><p>Neville stared at them blankly.</p><p>"How did it feel?" Harry asked.</p><p>Neville looked down at Hermione's wand. "Better," he said. "Not <em>right</em>, exactly, but it didn't feel unnatural in my hand."</p><p>"Did it feel connected to your hand at all?" Hermione asked. "Like there was a sort of warmth flowing through you?"</p><p>"No," Neville said, with an astonished look on his face. "Blimey, is that what it feels like when you hold your wands?"</p><p>"Yes," Harry confirmed, feeling a surge of anger toward Augusta Longbottom.</p><p>"Oh," Neville said awkwardly.</p><p>It was possible that Hermione had worked out a 15-step plan to get Neville a new wand that Harry was sure was genius and would absolutely work. She didn't seem to have one yesterday, but she was always coming up with things.</p><p>It's also possible that Harry could've tricked Augusta into seeing Neville using one of their wands and let her come to the conclusion herself.</p><p>But Neville said she favored the bold—Harry could certainly tell she wasn't a fan of the weak-willed—and the next time he saw her—in the sitting room, listening to Celestina Warbeck—his anger took over him a bit.</p><p>Neville had given him one of the most thoughtful presents of his life the night before, and Harry wasn't ending this day without an agreement to get him a new wand.</p><p>As they were sitting on the couches, getting some of their schoolwork done, Neville told his grandmother about their afternoon, and how they had crossed the Shield Charm off their list of spells for Harry to learn.</p><p>"That one always comes in handy," she said. "Alice—Neville's mum—was a champion of defensive spells. A lot of wizards go right for the attack spells, but a well-done shield charm can protect <em>and</em> attack."</p><p>"Neville did really well, too," he told her.</p><p>Augusta looked at Neville sharply. "You did a Shield Charm?" she asked.</p><p>"No," Neville said. "A Summoning Charm."</p><p>"Still," Augusta said, a hint of pride in her voice, "you've never done that one before, have you?"</p><p>"No," Neville replied, before turning back to his essay.</p><p>"Of course," Harry added, "he had to use mine and Hermione's wands to do it."</p><p>Neville's head shot up from his work. Augusta Longbottom narrowed her eyes, and looked at the three of them accusingly.</p><p>"And why didn't you use <em>your</em> wand?" she asked Neville, puffing up. "Your wand belonged to your father—you should be proud to continue his legacy!"</p><p>Neville shrank back, clearly at a loss for words, as he shot Harry a worried glance.</p><p>"If the wand belonged to his father than that means it <em>doesn't</em> belong to him," Harry said.</p><p>"Poppycock," Augusta responded, waving her hand dismissively. "It's a fine wand—there's no fault with <em>it</em>."</p><p>Neville seemed to grow smaller at his grandmother's words and Harry had to tamp down his anger.</p><p>"There's no fault with Neville either," he said through gritted teeth. "That's the point. Ollivander said that the wand chooses the wizard. You can't just pick up another wand and expect it to be yours."</p><p>Augusta's mouth narrowed into the thinnest line Harry had ever seen—and he had known Professor McGonagall for years. "And yet, you seem to think that Neville can do just that with yours and Hermione's wand."</p><p>Harry shrugged. "Maybe our wands are closer to what Neville's wand is supposed to be," he suggested. "His best try was with Hermione's so maybe he needs a vine wand, or one with a dragon heartstring core. Or maybe our wands somehow know Neville's a friend."</p><p>He wasn't sure at all how any of this worked—maybe it would've been better to do a bit of research on it first—but those seemed like as good of explanations as any. And besides, if Augusta Longbottom gave Neville a used wand, <em>she</em> couldn't know too much about wandlore either. As far as she knew, everything Harry said could be factually accurate.</p><p>"It's true," Hermione piped up. "I read all about it in <em>Wandlore: A Witch's Guide</em> and <em>What Your Wand Says About You</em>."</p><p>Harry should have known that Hermione had already done the research.</p><p>"The texts say that the first time a witch or wizard waves their wand, there should be some sort of magical connection forged, even if they don't say a spell. That's why Ollivander makes you wave it around when he tests out wands at his shop. In my case, my wand shot out purple bubbles," Hermione added.</p><p>"Mine was red and gold sparks," Harry said.</p><p>"Did that ever happen for you, Neville?" Hermione asked kindly.</p><p>"N-No," he stuttered, shaking his head softly with a quick glance at his grandmother.</p><p>"He just doesn't have enough magic in him," Augusta argued, watching Neville with an appraising eye.</p><p>"He had enough magic in him to go to Hogwarts," Harry retorted. Neville had told him once that his family thought him a half-squib, but they didn't give squibs Hogwarts letters. Where was she coming up with this rubbish?</p><p>"Neville was perfectly well accomplished with our wands," Hermione argued. "And he's perfectly well accomplished at Herbology—which probably shouldn't be a surprise since it's one of the few classes where you don't <em>need</em> a wand and he hasn't got one suited to him."</p><p>Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Look," he said. "Our friend Ron used his brother Charlie's old wand back when we were first years, and it took him forever to learn spells."</p><p>"But his parents bought him a new one last year, and he's loads better at magic now," Hermione said. "Because he's got a wand that suits him."</p><p>Granted, Ron was still far from the top of their class, but Harry figured that was down to Ron's lack of caring in classes, and not any fault of his wand. And he <em>had</em> significantly improved the past couple of years.</p><p>Augusta looked between Harry and Hermione, her mouth open with astonishment. She clearly wasn't used to being argued with, and here they were, Neville's stalwart defenders.</p><p>And then Neville did something that surprised them all—he disagreed with his Gran.</p><p>"I think they're right," Neville said, his voice so low the others barely heard him.</p><p>Augusta turned to Neville in disbelief.</p><p>"Why don't you come down to the Auror Room and see?" Neville suggested. "I can try all of the wands."</p><p>Neville looked terrified at the thought of having to do magic in front of his grandmother, but kept a steady gaze on her—and that, more than anything, seemed to sway her.</p><p>"Fine," Augusta said. "Let's go see what you've got."</p><p>And so they found themselves back in the Auror Room. First, Neville used Hermione's wand—made of dragon heartstring and vine wood—and had similar results to their first session in the Auror Room. Then he tried Harry's phoenix feather and holly wand, producing spells that were better than he usually did, but not as good as with Hermione's wand.</p><p>"Now yours," Augusta said, and Neville looked down at his wand—Ash and unicorn hair—anxiously.</p><p>He took a deep breath, pointing his wand at the disc and shouted, "Accio pillow!"</p><p>Nothing happened. The pillow didn't even roll over. Augusta Longbottom blinked.</p><p>"Try again," she said, and Neville complied, but four tries later, still nothing happened.</p><p>Neville looked at his gran miserably. "Try mine," she commanded, handing him her wand.</p><p>"Accio!" Neville shouted, and the pillow flew into his arms.</p><p>Augusta blinked in surprise yet again.</p><p>"What type of wand do you have?" Harry asked.</p><p>"Fir and dragon heartstring," Augusta replied, and Harry felt an incredible sense of satisfaction—she had the same wand core as Hermione.</p><p>Neville studied his Gran, his face brimming with hope. She watched him silently for a few moments before nodding.</p><p>"All right," she said. "We can go to Ollivander and see what he has to say."</p><p>And Neville—looking as certain as Harry felt that Ollivander would agree with them—nodded happily.</p><hr/><p>When Augusta Longbottom decided to do something she didn't dally. So early the next morning, Harry found himself clutching her hand, feeling like he was going to barf, in the middle of the Leaky Cauldron. Apparating hadn't been <em>quite</em> as bad as the last time—at least he knew what to expect—but he suspected his body was rebelling against two trips in such quick succession.</p><p>Tom, the barkeep, handed him a small glass of something with a knowing grin. Harry smiled gratefully as he gulped it down.</p><p>The pub was rather quiet—it <em>was</em> a Tuesday morning—but it was still busy enough for Harry to feel the whispers the moment he arrived. Clearly everyone here had read the <em>Daily Prophet.</em></p><p>He was certain Dumbledore wouldn't exactly approve of their jaunt to Diagon Alley, but Neville's gran didn't seem too concerned, and this was too important. Besides, what were the chances Voldemort would attack him here?</p><p>Diggy arrived with Neville and Hermione, and after Hermione downed a glass of Tom's concoction, Augusta set off for the back wall where the entrance to Diagon Alley was hidden. In no time at all, they had stepped into Ollivander's shop—and to their relief, it was empty.</p><p>Mr. Ollivander surveyed them. "Augusta Longbottom—Fir and dragon's heartstring, 8 inches, unyielding," he recited. "It's been a long time since you've been in my shop."</p><p>With a pointed glance at Neville, he added, "Too long."</p><p>Augusta scowled at him. "So I've heard," she said dryly, and gestured to Neville to show Ollivander his wand.</p><p>Ollivander examined it. "I remember selling this to your son," he murmured, and then looked up sharply at Neville. "You haven't been trying to use it, have you?"</p><p>"Yes," Neville answered.</p><p>Ollivander shook his head. "The ideal owner for an ash wand is stubborn and courageous," he said, earning a broad smile from Augusta as she thought of her son. "But ash wands cleave to their true master more than any other wand type. They can never be gifted without losing power."</p><p>Augusta's face lost her smile, and Harry thought he saw regret creeping into her eyes.</p><p>Ollivander looked at Neville. "If you've been able to make this wand do anything for you at all, it's a miracle," he said.</p><p>"So you're saying that still belongs to my Frank?" Augusta demanded.</p><p>But Ollivander was inspecting the wand with a frown on his face. "I don't know," he murmured. "Something's different about it."</p><p>Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances, and all were silent as Ollivander continued his study.</p><p>"Could it belong to Barty Crouch Jr.?" Neville asked quietly. "After he used it, it felt like him."</p><p>Ollivander blinked in surprise. The only version of the story he would have heard was Rita Skeeter's, but at his shrewd look between Neville and Harry, he seemed to have realized what must've transpired at Hogwarts.</p><p>"It's possible," Ollivander said, a far off look on his face. "Wands have been known to change allegiances under the right circumstances."</p><p>"But you just said this wand never belonged to Neville," Augusta insisted. "So how could Crouch have won it off him?"</p><p>Ollivander fixed her with a solemn look. "I liked your son and daughter-in-law very much," he said.</p><p>"Everyone did," Augusta agreed impatiently and Harry silently agreed. What did that have to do with the wand?</p><p>"I went to their trial," Ollivander continued. "And I distinctly remember Rodolphus Lestrange boasting"—he hesitated, with a quick glance at Neville—"at how Frank Longbottom had been captured. It took the four of them, but Barty Crouch Jr. was the one Lestrange said disarmed him."</p><p>Harry frowned. "But how can a Disarming Charm cause a wand to change allegiances?" he asked. "We do them all the time at Hogwarts!"</p><p>Augusta looked like she too wanted the answer to that question.</p><p>"A Disarming Charm alone won't cause an allegiance to change," Ollivander explained. "You and Miss Granger could practice disarming each other all day long and nothing would happen. But during a high-stakes duel—when death or torture was on the line—absolutely it could."</p><p>"You talk about wands as if they have feelings," Harry said.</p><p>"Of course they do," Ollivander answered. "How else would they choose their owners?"</p><p>"So Barty Crouch Jr. won it off Mr. Longbottom 13 years ago—and Neville's been using it ever since?" Hermione clarified.</p><p>"I believe so," Ollivander nodded.</p><p>"Then why did it only start to feel like him after he used it?" Neville asked, looking disgusted and confused.</p><p>Ollivander shook his head. "Perhaps he never took hold of it 13 years ago," he said. "If he disarmed your father, but one of the Lestranges caught and held the wand… Perhaps that day in Hogwarts was the first time owner and wand were united."</p><p>"But it didn't shoot out bubbles or sparks or anything," Hermione murmured, looking puzzled.</p><p>"It wouldn't if he used a spell," Ollivander explained. "The reason that happens here in my shop is because I don't want you using spells—a witch or wizard can channel almost any instrument to produce results from a spell, so I wouldn't be able to definitively know if that wand truly belonged to you if spellwork was involved. But no other witch or wizard could've produced those purple bubbles you made three years ago just by waving the wand."</p><p>Neville took in everything Ollivander was saying, and looked at his Gran in horror.</p><p>"The boy needs a new wand," she said sternly. "You can burn that one."</p><p>And so Ollivander took out his measuring tape and had Neville test wand after wand, shuffling around his store, muttering under his breath about unicorn hairs and dragon heartstrings.</p><p>Finally, after they'd been there an hour, he procured a reasonably flexible wand made of cedar and dragon heartstring. Neville took it in hand and blue smoke in the shape of vines shot out.</p><p>Harry and Hermione beamed, and Neville looked down at his hand in awe.</p><p>"That's what it's supposed to feel like?" he whispered joyously.</p><p>"Oh, Neville," Hermione gushed, giving him a quick hug.</p><p>Harry had pegged Augusta Longbottom as the type to never make apologies, but she surprised him when she clasped Neville on the shoulder. She didn't say anything, but they looked at each other wordlessly, a sorrowful look on her face, and Harry could tell that <em>something</em> was transpiring between them.</p><p>And then she treated them to the largest ice cream sundaes they could buy at Florean Fortescue's.</p><p>It wasn't <em>really</em> an apology, in Harry's opinion, but Neville seemed happy enough just to have his wand.</p><hr/><p>Neville was like a man possessed now that he had a proper wand. He wanted to spend all day every day in the Auror Room trying out every spell he'd never been able to master—and seeing as how it rained almost every day that first week and Harry really <em>did</em> need to train, Harry and Hermione were most agreeable.</p><p>Reducto, Expulso, the Trip Jinx—Harry mastered all in no time at all. The room provided whatever objects they needed, and while Neville and Hermione still had to stand in to duel Harry, it also provided pillows to protect them and—in the case of one particularly powerful Banishing Charm that sent Neville into the wall—the walls themselves felt like pillows, lightly cushioning their hit.</p><p>Of course, they still had all of their other course work to do too, and Hermione had made a schedule for that—though she was sure to leave plenty of time in the evenings for games of exploding snap and long talks with Neville's Gran.</p><p>She'd surprised Harry one evening when they were lounging in the sitting room when she'd compared him to his grandmother.</p><p>"You're a bit like her, you know—obstinate, certain you're right… always doing something to make people gossip about you," she said, though there was no malice in her tone.</p><p>"You knew my grandmother?" Harry asked in surprise.</p><p>"I was at her wedding," Augusta commented, and then added dryly, "Of course, she wasn't."</p><p>"What?" Harry asked.</p><p>Augusta sat back in her armchair, now clearly having all of their rapt attention. Harry stopped petting Crookshanks, Neville stopped shuffling his cards and Hermione's book lay forgotten beside her.</p><p>"She was a Fawley," Augusta explained. "They're an old wizarding family—though the only ones left moved to Australia."</p><p>She said it with a tone of condemnation.</p><p>"Her parents wanted her to marry Darius Parkinson—right old drip he was."</p><p><em>Parkinson?</em> As in Pansy Parkinson? Harry shuddered at the thought of being related to her. Of course, if the marriage had happened, he never would've been born.</p><p>"She had an arranged marriage?" Hermione asked, scandalized.</p><p>"Not so much arranged as expected," Augusta replied. "She swore up and down that she'd never marry him, but her parents planned it all anyway, figuring she'd do as she was told. So there we all were, gathered on their estate, waiting for the bride, when all of a sudden, there was a huge explosion."</p><p>Augusta chuckled a little. "She'd blasted out the wall of the room she was supposed to be getting ready in, and flew out on her broom—she was quite a good flyer, too," she added, with a shrewd look at Harry.</p><p>"So what happened?" Harry asked.</p><p>"Her family made noises about it, but once she married your grandfather, they settled down," she said. "He came from a respectable enough family for them, even if he was a bit of an oddball—always inventing something or another. The Parkinsons were another story. Darius went on to marry the Nott chit, but his mother never forgave your grandmother. Some say she put a curse on her—that's why your grandparents didn't have your father until after Althea Parkinson died—but I think it's all rubbish. Your grandmother was an adventurer—loved her flying—and just didn't want to settle down until she was good and ready."</p><p>Augusta's face was a mixture of disapproval—she was clearly someone who believed in duty to one's family—and admiration—she also seemed to respect those who knew their own mind.</p><p>But from then on, Harry pestered her with questions about his family. She hadn't known his grandmother well—Augusta had been a few years younger—but they both came from the same circles, and so she <em>did</em> have stories about her. There was the garden party where his grandmother had "accidentally" dumped the punch all over that horrible Marian Goyle—she'd turned Lizzie Prewett's braids into snakes—and the time she'd put on a stage performance of "Babbitty Rabbitty and Her Cackling Stump."</p><p>And now he knew her name—Euphemia.</p><p>Listening to Augusta—who hadn't even known his grandmother that well—he couldn't understand why he'd never asked before. Why had he been so content with the crumbs and scraps people had given him about his family? He hadn't even asked for a picture of his parents—Hagrid had taken that upon himself.</p><p>He supposed he had learned a long time ago not to bring them up—his aunt and uncle had forbidden talk of the Potters in their house. But almost four years had passed, and he still didn't know much more about his mom and dad—or anyone in his family—then he had the day Hagrid told him he was a wizard.</p><p>One week at Neville's house and he had his mother's blanket and his grandmother's stories.</p><p>Hermione also seemed to enjoy her conversations with Augusta. The evening that Neville got his wand, Harry had come upon them debating the merits of house-elf slavery in one of the many parlors, and while he could tell Augusta thought Hermione was a bit of a nutter, she didn't actually <em>call </em>her that. It seems it had been quite awhile since Augusta Longbottom had a proper sparring partner, and Hermione was a worthy adversary.</p><p>"Honestly, her way of thinking is so backwards," Hermione had confided to Harry one day. "But at least she <em>listens</em> to your arguments so she can try to refute them—and besides, if we want to change anything, we'll likely have to get those who actually own house elves on our side. At least she's listening."</p><p>Harry quickly got used to the familiarity of Neville's home. The blue room with his mum's blanket felt more like his bedroom than anything did but his dorm at Hogwarts, and he quite liked the afternoons when Hermione suggested they go out to the secret garden to do their homework.</p><p>He looked forward to seeing the change on her face every time they entered the space, though something kept him from questioning why exactly that was. He occasionally heard Sirius' voice in his head—why was she so important?—but it's like he had some sort of mental block on the answer. Hermione had always been there for him, and he liked things exactly as they were.</p><p>He woke early one morning—early morning mist was still out in full force and the sun hadn't completely risen yet—to find Hermione in the Longbottom portrait gallery. She was questioning the oldest paintings, and admitted to Harry that she was trying to figure out if they knew anything about house elves.</p><p>"The Longbottoms are one of the oldest wizarding families, aren't they?" she said. "They might know something useful."</p><p>"Have they said anything?" Harry asked.</p><p>"They only want to talk about dragons," she said, clearly disappointed. "Apparently, the Longbottoms used to keep them as pets."</p><p>"Never tell that to Hagrid," Harry warned, earning a laugh from Hermione. "He'd be up here in a minute asking all about pet maintenance."</p><p>"Dragons, honestly," Hermione said, shaking her head. "It's no <em>wonder</em> they've got a Wiggentree here." Touching the bark of a Wiggentree was said to keep witches and wizards safe from dark creatures.</p><p>He assumed they'd do what they usually did in the mornings—go to the Auror Room—but Hermione surprised them by giving him a book on jinxes and hexes to read, and instructing Neville to brew a Girding Potion.</p><p>"But we haven't even studied that yet," Neville remarked.</p><p>"Do you trust me?" Hermione asked.</p><p>"Of course," he replied automatically.</p><p>"Then you'll brew the potion," Hermione said.</p><p>And so he did, without any help at all from Hermione—which was far from usual for her. Harry looked at Hermione quizzically, but she shook her head slightly with a nod at Neville and a significant look that told him she'd explain later.</p><p>And when Neville was done, the result was better than his usual offering. It wasn't quite as green as it should be—it was lime instead of grass green—but Hermione thought it could easily achieve an A or maybe even an E.</p><p>Hermione looked very pleased with herself, and Neville was fairly astonished. Harry was looking forward to a moment alone with Hermione so she could tell him exactly what she had up her sleeve with that potion.</p><p>But then Augusta Longbottom swept into the room, a grim look on her face and a letter in her hand, and it made Harry forget all about potions and house elves and secret gardens.</p><p>"I've just gotten a letter from Dumbledore," Augusta announced with a significant look at Harry and Hermione. "Amelia Bones has requested your presence at the Ministry of Magic on Thursday."</p><p>Hermione's gaze flew to Harry's but it was like he couldn't see anything at all—this was it. This was Sirius' chance. This was Harry's way to help him go free.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While Harry, Hermione and Neville stuck mostly to their routine—Auror Room in the mornings, secret garden to do schoolwork after lunch, and spending time in the sitting room with Augusta, hearing stories about Harry's gran after dinner—Hermione could tell that Harry was more tense once the letter from Dumbledore arrived.</p>
<p>They spent countless hours going over their testimony, trying to remember every last detail, anything that could help Sirius out.</p>
<p>"You didn't see him, Hermione," Harry said late one night when they'd been sitting in front of the fireplace, Crookshanks curled up on her lap. Neville and Augusta had long since gone to bed.</p>
<p>"When Dumbledore told him what Alastor Moody said—when he told us that there would be an inquiry into Pettigrew and Sirius—it was like he had given up," Harry said, watching her hand as she pet Crookshanks. "It was like he didn't believe anything good could happen in his life anymore."</p>
<p>"He spent 12 years with the dementors, Harry," she answered. "I'd imagine it would take quite awhile to feel anything like hope again after that."</p>
<p>Harry looked troubled.</p>
<p>"But it'll happen," Hermione added emphatically, in what she thought was a very confident way. She took her hand from Crookshanks and patted Harry's knee comfortingly. Crookshanks seemed to take the hint because he crawled from her lap to Harry's, and Harry's fingers automatically stroked his fur.</p>
<p>"Eventually, Sirius will be able to start healing from everything that's happened. Besides, something good <em>has</em> happened to him since he got out of Azkaban," Hermione pointed out. "You."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, watching the flames. He didn't say anything, but she was relieved to see his shoulders relax—she'd at least gotten through a little bit. Hermione rested her head on his shoulder, and together, they watched the fire die out.</p>
<p>As confident as she tried to be for Harry, telling him that everything would work out, she got butterflies in her stomach every time she thought of testifying before the Ministry. She knew it would be a rather informal affair this time around—a few questioners in Madam Bones' office, and if the investigation found enough evidence to merit a hearing, she'd have to testify again in court later—but there was so much riding on this.</p>
<p>And she could be stubborn and dismissive of idiots—and the Ministry had certainly shown a lot of idiocy when it came to Sirius, not even giving him a trial the first time around—and, well, she didn't always make the best first impression, did she? Adults tended to like her better than her peers, but Sirius couldn't afford the Ministry dismissing her viewpoint because they found her unlikable.</p>
<p>She <em>had </em>to do her best for him and for Harry.</p>
<p>Before they knew it, Thursday had arrived. Diggy made them a big breakfast—which neither Harry nor Hermione could eat much of—and Neville wished them luck. Then Augusta Longbottom apparated Harry and Hermione to a rather shabby area of London.</p>
<p>Hermione came into London often with her parents—they didn't live too far out and her mum loved coming in for a show—but she'd never been here before. There were several rundown offices, an overflowing dumpster and a pub so grimy it made the Hog's Head look like the Queen's private residence.</p>
<p>Augusta Longbottom marched authoritatively toward an old red telephone box that looked like it had seen better days. Harry and Hermione glanced at each other quizzically.</p>
<p>"It's the visitor's entrance," Augusta explained, ushering them inside before folding herself in. Hermione was crammed up against the wall, Harry's elbow digging into her side.</p>
<p>"Sorry," he muttered in her ear, his whisper sending shivers down her spine. She was terrified and nervous and those rubbish butterflies were back. She couldn't fall apart on Sirius <em>now.</em></p>
<p>Augusta picked up the broken receiver and began to dial.</p>
<p>"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," a female voice called out. "Please state your name and business."</p>
<p>"Augusta Longbottom, here to escort Harry Potter and Hermione Granger to a meeting with Amelia Bones," Augusta Longbottom replied.</p>
<p>"Thank you," the voice said, as visitor's badges spit out of the coin slot. Harry was barely able to grab them before the floor shuddered and they sank into the ground. Hermione saw a bright glowing light and then the box opened and they were standing in a splendid peacock blue and gold hall lined with gilded fireplaces.</p>
<p>Augusta led them over toward a desk labeled security, but Hermione stopped short at the fountain in the middle of a hall. A statue of a witch and wizard were in the center, and a centaur, goblin and house elf were all gazing up at them adoringly.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. If this was the sort of rubbish the Ministry of Magic had in its front hall, it's no wonder the wizarding community was so backwards.</p>
<p>She could feel the righteous anger flowing through her. Honestly, if Barty Crouch Sr. and Amos Diggory were any indication of the kind of narrow-minded, imbecilic dunderheads who worked at the Ministry of Magic, of <em>course</em> they would have something as offensive as this fountain at the entrance. Of <em>course</em> they would think centaurs and goblins and house elves admired and doted on wizards, thinking them superior. Had they ever even <em>met</em> a centaur? Or studied any of the dozens of goblin rebellions there had been over the years? Goblins were probably more likely to lock a wizard up with the dragons that reportedly guarded Gringott's than ever gaze up at one <em>adoringly</em>.</p>
<p>She felt Harry's presence at her side. "I know," he whispered.</p>
<p>"It's preposterous!" she exclaimed, turning to look at him, and her rant died on her lips. He looked more tense, more nervous than she had ever seen him, and she remembered why they were there.</p>
<p>Sirius first. Then house elves.</p>
<p>She nodded at him, understanding etched in her face, and they hurried after Mrs. Longbottom.</p>
<p>They made a quick stop at the security desk where their wands were checked—and the security guards gawked at Harry's scar—and then Augusta led them to the lifts.</p>
<p>They exited on level two—Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters and Wizengamot Administration Services—and walked straight into Mr. Weasley.</p>
<p>"Harry! Hermione!" He greeted them warmly. "I was hoping to run into you before your appointments. Got a lot to do today—meetings all afternoon—but I wanted to see you."</p>
<p>"Is Ron here?" Harry asked, looking around. They stepped to the side of the lift so as not to block traffic.</p>
<p>"No," Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head. "He's coming in tomorrow. I've got too many meetings today, and of course, minors can't be questioned without a parent or guardian."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione exchanged quizzical glances.</p>
<p>"Er—<em>we</em> are," Harry pointed out.</p>
<p>Mr. Weasley smiled awkwardly. "Er—yes," he agreed. "There are some in the Ministry who believe muggles shouldn't have any say in wizarding business. And since your parents and guardians are muggles…"</p>
<p>He trailed off.</p>
<p>"We have fewer rights?" Hermione finished for him.</p>
<p>"Oh, goodness, no," Mr. Weasley said. "You'll still have a representative there—Professor Dumbledore. But the ways the laws have been written—as the Ministry sees it, when your parents sent you to school, they agreed to the headmaster being a potential guardian for you. I don't agree with it, but—"</p>
<p>He glanced at Harry and grimaced. Mr. Weasley had met both the Grangers and the Dursleys, and had clearly formed the right opinion of the latter.</p>
<p>"Well, in this case, you're probably better off with Professor Dumbledore, Harry," he said.</p>
<p>Harry smiled slightly.</p>
<p>Mr. Weasley looked at Hermione. He had quite liked her parents and there was absolutely nothing wrong with them where <em>they</em> couldn't be here for her—unless, of course, you counted the fact that Hermione had always given them the short version of her adventures with Harry, ones that didn't involve brushes with death, so explaining about Sirius Black to them would be quite the awkward conversation indeed.</p>
<p>Mr. Weasley looked apologetic about the Ministry's opinion of her parents, but Hermione couldn't help but feel a helpless sort of anger anyway. It wasn't just foul idiots like Draco Malfoy calling her a mudblood—it was Ron telling her she just didn't understand wizarding ways when it came to house elves; it was the clerk in the store in Diagon Alley where she had bought her parchment who seemed so surprised that she got top marks, given that she was a muggleborn; it was the way Madam Hooch told her and Dean Thomas—in what she clearly thought was a comforting way—that they couldn't be expected to take to flying so easily back during one of their lessons first year, despite the fact that Harry had never been on a broom before either and it was Neville who went and broke his wrist on the first day; it was the Ministry telling her that her parents were less than in the government's eyes. There were a thousand different ways the wizarding world liked to remind her that she was a muggleborn, that she was different, that she couldn't <em>possibly</em> understand.</p>
<p>She was better than the whole lot of them when it came to actually <em>doing</em> magic, she thought irritably.</p>
<p>Hermione let out a frustrated sigh.</p>
<p>She looked to Harry again, and they shared a commiserating look. He wasn't bothered by the Ministry's dismissal of the Dursleys at all—if he had it his way, he'd dismiss them all the time—but her parents were a different story altogether.</p>
<p>She instantly felt more centered, knowing she had a friend who understood—a friend who needed her right now. In this moment, all she should be concentrating on was Sirius and the gross miscarriage of justice <em>he</em> was facing. Sirius and Harry were counting on her to do her best.</p>
<p>Augusta Longbottom was watching her shrewdly, and then placed her hand on both of their shoulders. "We should be going," she said.</p>
<p>"Of course, of course," Mr. Weasley agreed. "Don't want to be late."</p>
<p>He smiled amiably again. "Good luck in there," he said.</p>
<p>Mrs. Longbottom led them down a long corridor and through a set of large oak doors, into an efficiently styled waiting room. Albus Dumbledore was sitting casually on one of the chairs.</p>
<p>"Good morning," he greeted them cheerfully. "All set for today?"</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione nodded. They'd been going over what happened for the past few days—and, of course, they and Ron had already had meetings with Dumbledore back at Hogwarts when they first realized the Ministry might call them in for questioning. They were to tell the whole truth up until the time-turner bit—and, if at all possible, they were to avoid any detailed descriptions of Sirius' animagus form. There was no getting around outing him as an animagus if their story was to be believed—and Professor Lupin would obviously be questioned about what form Sirius' animagus took—but there was no reason they had to be overly descriptive about it, in case things didn't go their way. Lupin could say that he was a dog, but Sirius only ever transformed in front of him after he'd turned into the wolf, and if Harry, Hermione and Ron didn't provide a lot of description, this at least offered Sirius <em>some</em> protection. There were quite a lot of dogs in the United Kingdom.</p>
<p>"Excellent," Dumbledore said, looking at his watch. "I'm sure Madam Bones will be out any moment now. Have a seat."</p>
<p>Augusta Longbottom perched primly on an armchair, and Harry and Hermione took the sofa across from Dumbledore. Hermione felt Harry's leg bouncing next to her—he likely would have preferred pacing. Without thinking, she grabbed his hand, and felt Harry squeeze back, his leg falling still.</p>
<p>Hermione felt a small sliver of satisfaction, which helped to keep her own anxiety at bay. She'd never had to give official testimony before—and certainly never for anything as important as saving an innocent man's life.</p>
<p>"Once we do this, how long will the process take?" she asked Dumbledore, looking for something to pass the time more than anything.</p>
<p>"Well, I've already given my testimony," he said, "as has the Minister for Magic, Alastor Moody and Professor Snape. Mr. Weasley is meeting with Madam Bones tomorrow, and Remus Lupin is set to come in sometime next week. Then there will be the other Ministry officials who were on the scene when Sirius was arrested, and Winky. The Ministry will also want to question Mr. Crouch if he turns up, and anyone who could give evidence on why he didn't grant Sirius a full trial. And they'll try to turn up as many witnesses who can speak to Sirius Black's, Peter Pettigrew's or Lily and James Potter's movements and state of mind prior to that Halloween.</p>
<p>"And, of course, they'll try to find Sirius Black himself to testify," he added, his eyes twinkling. "Though I imagine they'll need quite a bit of luck finding him."</p>
<p>"In other words," Augusta said dryly, "Cornelius Fudge is going to drag this out as long as possible because he doesn't want to deal with the political fallout of everyone knowing he's the fool who gave the order to administer the dementor's kiss to an innocent man who was never given a trial."</p>
<p>"That is certainly a plausible interpretation," Dumbledore agreed affably.</p>
<p>Once Harry and Hermione had explained the whole situation to Neville's gran, she'd gotten on board with the idea of Sirius Black being innocent rather quickly. "I never met him myself," she had said, "but my Frank thought he was a good sort."</p>
<p>And, as far as she was concerned, that was all the evidence Sirius needed.</p>
<p>The office doors opened and a harried-looking witch exited.</p>
<p>"The panel will see Miss Granger now," she announced.</p>
<p>Dumbledore and Hermione stood. She turned back for one last look at Harry. He was giving her an encouraging smile, the kind she usually gave him before end-of-year exams, and just like that, something shifted in her. This wasn't something to fear, something to be worried about—there was no reason to be anxious about all the ways this could go wrong. This was just an oral exam.</p>
<p>This was just another test—and no one was better at tests than Hermione Granger.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Madam Bones was a severe looking woman with short gray hair and a monocle. She was seated on one side of a conference table, along with half a dozen other witches and wizards—including Cornelius Fudge. The harried-looking witch took her seat at the end of the table; she was clearly there to take notes.</p>
<p>Dumbledore sat on the empty side of the table, and Hermione sat next to him, looking up and down the row of questioners. They looked fairly forbidding.</p>
<p>"Good Morning," Madam Bones said, once Hermione had taken her seat. "I'm Madam Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and this is my staff." She gestured to the witches and wizards beside her.</p>
<p>"And," she added, frowning a bit, "this is the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge."</p>
<p>"Hello," Hermione greeted them all politely.</p>
<p>"Cornelius," Dumbledore said amiably, "I had no idea you'd be here today."</p>
<p>Fudge straightened stiffly. "Well, as Minister, I'm well within my rights to sit in on a hearing about something as important as Sirius Black," he said pompously.</p>
<p>But while both Dumbledore and Madam Bones had perfectly impassive faces, Hermione got the sense from both of them that it was very unusual indeed for him to be here.</p>
<p>"Very well," Madam Bones said. "We shall proceed. Miss Granger, please tell us about the events of June 6 last year."</p>
<p>"My friends, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and I went down to Hagrid's place of residence after dinner," she said.</p>
<p>"Hagrid?" Madam Bones asked sharply. "Not Professor Hagrid?"</p>
<p>"He's a quite informal teacher," Hermione explained. "And since we all knew him from before he was a professor, he's never seemed to mind it."</p>
<p>Madam Bones nodded.</p>
<p>"We went down to Hagrid's because one of his hippogriff's, Buckbeak, had been sentenced to be executed, and we wanted to show him our support," Hermione added.</p>
<p>"That's a bit odd, isn't it?" Fudge asked. "Comforting a grown man over a dangerous creature like that."</p>
<p>"Not really," Hermione answered severely, admonishing herself to rein in her temper. "I'd been helping Hagrid with his appeals for Buckbeak all year, and—"</p>
<p>"Why on earth?" one of the wizards to Madam Bones' right asked. He had protruding green eyes, blonde hair and a rather large mustache. "I've read the reports on that creature. It was clearly deranged."</p>
<p>"I don't see how," Hermione answered, feeling her anger rising. If the Ministry had bothered to question students in that case the way it was doing in this one, Buckbeak would have been cleared. "Hagrid clearly told us in class that day that hippogriffs were proud creatures and you should never insult one. It's not Buckbeak's fault that Draco Malfoy didn't listen and called him an ugly great brute. And, if Buckbeak was so deranged, how was Harry able to ride him?"</p>
<p>She looked defiantly at the man with the large mustache.</p>
<p>"Harry Potter <em>rode</em> the hippogriff?" the man asked. This was clearly news to him. Hermione felt her stomach sink—she knew Hagrid got tongue-tied when it came to official proceedings, but surely he must've told the Ministry <em>that</em> information at least?</p>
<p>"Yes," Hermione said pleasantly, contorting her face into a perfectly passive mask. "Harry practiced with Buckbeak first and flew him all around the paddock. You can ask him about it if you want—or Ron Weasley or Neville Longbottom or Parvati Patil or Lavender Brown." She had a sick feeling that naming her pureblood classmates would carry more weight.</p>
<p>The witches and wizards in front of her were murmuring, and Fudge fidgeted uncomfortably.</p>
<p>"We're here to discuss Sirius Black, not hippogriffs," he blustered.</p>
<p>"Quite right," Dumbledore agreed with Fudge, though there was a tint of humor to his voice. He nodded to Hermione.</p>
<p>"Of course," Hermione said, and told them about leaving Hagrid's, Scabbers running off, and Crookshanks and Ron running after him.</p>
<p>"That's not so unusual, a cat chasing a mouse," Madam Bones said reasonably, and despite the circumstances and how utterly unimportant it was at the moment, Hermione couldn't help but feel a bit validated—it was entirely irrational in the current situation, but she <em>hoped</em> Madam Bones said the same thing to Ron.</p>
<p>"Well, my cat is part kneazle," Hermione added. "He'd disliked Scabbers from the start. Crookshanks kept trying to attack him all year—and when we confronted Sirius Black in the Shrieking Shack, Crookshanks kept trying to protect him."</p>
<p>"Where did you purchase this animal?" Madam Bones asked with interest. "They can attest that your cat is part kneazle?"</p>
<p>"Of course. Magical Menagerie in Diagon Alley," Hermione answered.</p>
<p>"Why are we <em>still</em> talking about ruddy animals?" Fudge asked rather rudely.</p>
<p>"We're talking about an animal that is known to be an excellent judge of character," Madam Bones said coolly. She turned to Hermione. "I assume there are others who can testify to your cat's behavior?"</p>
<p>Hermione grinned. She'd hated Ron last year when he constantly sniped at her, accusing Crookshanks of murder, reducing her to tears on numerous occasions. But now? There wasn't a single Gryffindor in Gryffindor Tower who couldn't testify to Crookshank's behavior thanks to Ron's lamenting.</p>
<p>"Ask any of the Gryffindors," she said. "Especially the boys who lived in Ron's dorm. Crookshanks absolutely terrorized Scabbers."</p>
<p>She knew this was just adding to the list of potential witnesses—which Fudge would just use to delay justice for Sirius—but if more evidence meant his eventual freedom, then it was worth it.</p>
<p>"What happened next?" Madam Bones asked.</p>
<p>"Ron grabbed Scabbers, and was attacked by some sort of animal," she said.</p>
<p>"What kind of animal?" Fudge asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"I'm not sure," Hermione lied, furrowing her brow. "It was big, I think—it must've been big. Ron's not overweight by any means—he's quite lanky—but he's the tallest boy in our year, even back then. But it was dark out, and if I'm being honest, I was more worried about Ron—the animal was dragging him away like a rag doll, and his head kept bouncing against the ground. And then Harry and I were attacked by the Whomping Willow, and honestly, I was just trying not to get killed myself."</p>
<p>She started off slow, as if she were thinking hard about what type of animal Sirius could be, but gained steam as she was talking, and by the time she was done, she'd said most of that very fast.</p>
<p>She looked around at them earnestly, and saw she had struck a cord. Many of her questioners had attended Hogwarts after the Whomping Willow was installed and knew quite well what happened when you got too close to it. Her not being able to identify the animal in the dark—when that ridiculous tree was attacking her—didn't seem that odd to them.</p>
<p>She told them about following Crookshanks into the tunnel, about finding Ron and a transformed Sirius in the Shrieking Shack, and about Professor Lupin turning up.</p>
<p>"Professor Lupin had figured it out," Hermione said, explaining to them about the Marauder's Map and how he had seen Peter Pettigrew's name on there, and then how he had explained to them that James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew had become unregistered animagi.</p>
<p>"And that's when Professor Snape revealed that he was in the room," Hermione continued. "He was under Harry's invisibility cloak."</p>
<p>"Yes, Severus Snape has already given testimony that you were all under the Confundus Charm and attacked him," Madam Bones said.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. "We haven't studied the Confundus Charm in class yet," she said, "but all of the research I've done on it says the person who has been confounded is confused. Do I sound confused? Or like I can't quite recall what happened, and someone else has to fill in the blanks for me?"</p>
<p>She looked around at the witches and wizards. "Besides, if anyone really believed <em>that</em> last June, why didn't they check our wands to see the spells that were last done?"</p>
<p>"Why did you attack your professor then, Miss Granger?" Madam Bones asked.</p>
<p>"Because he bound Professor Lupin and threatened to kill Sirius Black," she answered. "And when I pointed out to him that it couldn't hurt to hear Sirius Black out—to get the truth, whatever it was—he told me I was a stupid girl and to keep quiet. He clearly wasn't interested in justice—only revenge."</p>
<p>"Conjecture," Fudge practically shouted, puffing up.</p>
<p>"Well, it's true that he never said the words revenge," Hermione admitted. "When he pointed his wand at Black's face, his exact words were 'Vengeance is sweet.' He had apparently had a rivalry with Black, Professor Lupin and James Potter back in his school days—they told us all about it."</p>
<p>Madam Bones turned to Dumbledore, who nodded. "Indeed," he said. "I can testify to that if you'd like, though their heads of houses, Minerva McGonagall and Horace Slughorn, would likely know more about any specific incidents."</p>
<p>"Sirius Black offered to go up to the castle quietly—as long as the rat came, too—but Professor Snape said he'd just call one of the dementors to the tree once we'd gone through the passageway," Hermione continued, looking directly into Madam Bones' eyes. "We <em>had</em> to stop him, you see. If he was willing to give a man the dementor's kiss, knowing Sirius Black had evidence that could clear him—well, that's the mark of a man who's quite unbalanced."</p>
<p>"That's your opinion of Severus Snape that night, then?" Madam Bones asked.</p>
<p>"Well, that's how the Minister described him," Hermione offered, turning to Fudge with what she hoped was an innocent expression on her face. "That's what you said about him, wasn't it? After Professor Snape accused Harry of freeing Black just minutes after Professor Dumbledore locked us in the hospital wing?"</p>
<p>Fudge's face had turned red and Dumbledore was watching him with a half-smile, his blue eyes twinkling.</p>
<p>"Miss Granger has near-perfect recall," Dumbledore explained to the panel. "All of her teachers say so."</p>
<p>"Was that your opinion that night?" Madam Bones asked Fudge sharply. "That's not what you said to this panel last week."</p>
<p>"I might have said something to that effect then," Fudge said grudgingly, shooting daggers at Hermione and Dumbledore. "But he was clearly just upset by the turn of events—such a dangerous criminal getting away."</p>
<p>The man with the blonde mustache turned to Hermione. "He accused <em>Harry Potter</em> of freeing Black?" he asked askance.</p>
<p>"Oh, he accuses Harry quite a lot," Hermione explained. "Why, just a couple of months ago, he accused Harry of stealing boomslang skin from his private stores—and we all know how <em>that</em> turned out."</p>
<p>She looked around the table, and saw the witches and wizards glancing at each other uncomfortably. <em>No one</em> seemed to want to believe the words of a man who held a grudge against The Boy Who Lived<em>, </em>it seems. They had no problem with Snape being a Death Eater—but badmouthing Harry, <em>that </em>was beyond the pale.</p>
<p>"What happened after you attacked Snape?" Fudge asked, clearly trying to get the hearing back on track.</p>
<p>"Sirius told us how he figured out Scabbers was Pettigrew," Hermione said, looking at Madam Bones. "The Minister for Magic had given him a newspaper on his visit to Azkaban, and a photo of the Weasley family was on the front page."</p>
<p>Madam Bones' head swiveled to Fudge.</p>
<p>"That did happen," Fudge answered grudgingly.</p>
<p>"The picture showed Scabbers on Ron's shoulder," Hermione said. "He's missing a toe."</p>
<p>"Yes, Professor Dumbledore has already offered us the photos he procured from the Weasley family," Madam Bones confirmed.</p>
<p>"And then Professor Lupin and Sirius Black pointed wands at Scabbers, and a shot of blue-white light erupted, and Scabbers transformed into a man," Hermione said. "He transformed into Peter Pettigrew."</p>
<p>"And how would you know what he looks like?" the blonde man asked, though it was more in an interested way, and not accusing.</p>
<p>"I've read just about every book there is on You-Know-Who's downfall," she answered. "And I've seen Harry's parents' wedding photos. Both he and Black attended.</p>
<p>"Pettigrew admitted to everything—to spying for You-Know-Who for a year," Hermione said quietly. Except for her voice, there was complete silence in the room, everyone focused on her. "He said 'What was there to be gained by refusing him? He would've killed me.' He betrayed Lily and James Potter to save his own skin.</p>
<p>"And then we went up to the castle, but it was a full moon," she added. "And when Professor Snape came down to the Shrieking Shack, he neglected to bring the Wolfsbane Potion that had been in his hand when he went to Professor Lupin's office and saw him on the map. Professor Lupin transformed, Pettigrew escaped and the dementors attacked. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital wing."</p>
<p>The panel was silent for a long time.</p>
<p>"Alastor Moody has alleged that Pettigrew was working with Barty Crouch Jr. this year," Madam Bones finally said. "In your dealings with Crouch, did he mention anything to that effect?"</p>
<p>"No," Hermione said, "but by the time I broke free from the Imperius Curse—"</p>
<p>"You broke an Imperius?" Madam Bones asked sharply, peering at Hermione through her monocle. "How?"</p>
<p>"Barty Crouch Jr. was attacking Harry. Harry's wand had rolled out of his reach and I knew that if I didn't do something… I <em>had</em> to help Harry and then suddenly I was free of Crouch's control," she said, looking around the table beseechingly.</p>
<p>Madam Bones was watching her shrewdly, sizing her up.</p>
<p>"Harry Potter is my best friend," Hermione declared. "And Sirius Black is his godfather. I know very well that if Black goes free, he'll have access to Harry. And if I thought for a second that this man would hurt Harry…"</p>
<p>She shook her head. "I broke an <em>Imperius</em> for Harry," she stressed. "I wouldn't—couldn't—do anything that would hurt him. I would never testify on Sirius' behalf if there was a chance he was a threat to Harry. When Sirius told us that he would have died before he betrayed James and Lily Potter, I believed him. If any of you had heard him, if any of you have ever had a friend you would never betray, you would <em>know</em> he was telling the truth. You would recognize yourself in him."</p>
<p>She looked around the table. The entire panel was watching her with interest. Madam Bones gave no indication as to her true feelings, but, Hermione thought, perhaps, at least some of them might believe her.</p>
<p>"Thank you for your time, Miss Granger," Madam Bones finally said. "You may go."</p>
<p>Hermione looked uncertainly at Dumbledore, and they left the room.</p>
<p>"I think that went quite well," Dumbledore whispered to her as soon as the door had shut.</p>
<p>"Do you think they'll let Sirius go free?" Hermione asked anxiously.</p>
<p>"I think Augusta Longbottom was right that Fudge will try to slow the proceedings down," Dumbledore said. "But I think Madam Bones believed you. Witches with the strength of character to overthrow Imperiuses aren't likely to <em>still</em> be Confounded a year after the charm was cast. Had that happened, you still wouldn't remember what had happened that night—but you'd be questioning it quite a bit more.</p>
<p>"And the kneazle bit was also quite helpful—I wouldn't be surprised if she wanted to examine your cat," he added.</p>
<p>"And Professor Snape?" she asked carefully.</p>
<p>"Oh, I'd say they'll have quite a few follow-ups for him," Dumbledore answered, and his smile confused her. He clearly knew Snape had been in the wrong here—clearly believed every word she'd said about how Snape had acted—and yet, he still kept him on as a teacher.</p>
<p>"Sir?" Hermione asked timidly. "May I ask you a question?"</p>
<p>"Certainly," Dumbledore replied.</p>
<p>"You seem to agree that Professor Snape has behaved a bit…illogically when it comes to Sirius Black," she said. "And his own past isn't exactly spotless."</p>
<p>Dumbledore nodded. "I assume there's a question that follows that statement?" he prodded.</p>
<p>"Well," Hermione said, "he was a <em>Death Eater</em>. And he still seems to have those old grudges against people who fought Death Eaters. So how… does he work at Hogwarts?"</p>
<p>Dumbledore did not seem at all surprised that she knew he was a Death Eater. He considered his words carefully. "People are not always just one thing," he finally said. "And they are capable of change."</p>
<p>"But how can you know he's changed?" she pressed.</p>
<p>Dumbledore offered her a half-smile. "I'm afraid that knowledge is something I've promised not to reveal," he said. "But Severus Snape has not been involved in any dark activities since before the end of the war."</p>
<p>It wasn't a satisfactory answer—she wanted to know more—but they'd arrived back in the waiting room with Harry and Mrs. Longbottom. Harry was pacing around anxiously, his hair sticking up even more messily than it usually did. He'd been running his hands through it.</p>
<p>"How'd it go?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Really good," Hermione answered. "I think most of them believed me. But Harry—Fudge is in there too, and he's clearly not happy about any of this."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, and began to pat his hair down nervously.</p>
<p>"Don't," Augusta reprimanded, and stood up so she could fluff Harry's messy hair up, getting it out of the way of his scar.</p>
<p>"You want them to be looking at that when you're testifying," she said, pointing to his scar. "You want them remembering exactly who you are when you speak."</p>
<p>Harry grimaced—he hated being a spectacle and being treated like he was something special. She could see the indecision in his eyes. Nothing in him wanted to trade on The Boy Who Lived label, and yet, this was for Sirius.</p>
<p>The witch who had been taking notes came through the doors and looked to Harry.</p>
<p>"They're ready for you now," she said, her eyes never leaving his scar.</p>
<p>Harry looked to Hermione again, and she smiled encouragingly at him, impulsively hugging him. "Good luck!" she whispered, and she felt his hands grip her a little tighter before he followed Dumbledore down the hall.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione and Augusta sat in armchairs opposite each other while they waited for Harry's questioning to be done.</p>
<p>"That boy was a bundle of nervous energy," Augusta observed, watching Hermione carefully.</p>
<p>"Harry's more of a do-er," she explained, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. "He doesn't like when things are in other people's hands."</p>
<p>Augusta snorted. "He's reckless and impulsive you mean," she said. At Hermione's look, she added, "Neville tells me what he's gotten up to at school—stealing philosoper's stones and slaying basilisks. And this nonsense, going down into the Whomping Willow himself instead of finding a teacher."</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. She thought Augusta liked people like Harry.</p>
<p>"I raised a boy like that," Augusta informed Hermione, smiling fondly. "My Frank was brash and brave and never hesitated for a second. Alice, on the other hand—she was just as brave, but she always looked before she leaped."</p>
<p>Hermione read sadness in Augusta's eyes, and even the lines in her face seemed more pronounced. "My point is wizards like my Frank, like Harry, need someone a little more cautious looking out for them. They're always going to be the hero," she said.</p>
<p>Hermione tried to hide her surprise—she never thought she'd hear Augusta Longbottom critiquing her son. Of course, even as she was pointing out Frank's flaw, she still seemed to be proud of it. He was a hero, after all.</p>
<p>"I'm an old woman," Augusta added. "I can read the signs. We're going to go to war eventually and that boy will be at the center of it. Fighting a war isn't the same as what you two have faced before. It's not enough to just <em>be</em> smart. You have to know how to use it."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't know if she should be flattered or offended. Just what did Mrs. Longbottom think she'd been doing all of these years?</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip. Personally, she thought she'd always used her intelligence quite effectively. But when it came to saving Harry's life, she supposed there were always ways to improve, ways she could be better.</p>
<p>She was still mulling it over when Harry and Dumbledore exited the office nearly an hour later. She stood anxiously, and then Harry grinned at her—clearly, it had gone well. She couldn't wait to talk it over with him—to dissect every moment like she liked to do with exams—but Mrs. Longbottom insisted on stopping by the Wizarding Examinations Authority to say hello to her friend, Griselda Marchbanks.</p>
<p>It said a lot that Hermione had absolutely no interest in being there—normally, she would have peppered Madam Marchbanks with questions—but now all she wanted was to be back at Wiggentree Manor, peppering Harry with questions.</p>
<p>Finally, they returned home to find Diggy and Neville hard at work in the kitchen, making every sort of dessert imaginable.</p>
<p>"I didn't know which way it would go," Neville said, "but I figured biscuits could be celebratory or comforting."</p>
<p>Harry grabbed three chocolates and a shortbread. "I think it went well," he said. And he, too, was happy to dissect every last detail with Hermione, with Neville hanging on their every word.</p>
<p>"They asked me loads of questions about Snape," Harry said. "They didn't seem to like him very much."</p>
<p>Hermione grinned impishly. "Well, I may have used Fudge's words that night against him," she said, laughing, and Harry's face lit up. "And they didn't seem pleased when they learned he had accused you of freeing Sirius—or stealing that boomslang skin."</p>
<p>"So <em>that's</em> why they asked me a hundred questions about times Snape has accused me of things," Harry mused.</p>
<p>"What'd you tell them?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"I told them that it all started in our very first class first year—when he didn't even know me yet—and he accused me of letting you add the porcupine quills at the wrong time just to make myself look better," Harry answered sheepishly, but Neville didn't seem offended.</p>
<p>"Brilliant!" he declared.</p>
<p>"Madam Bones seemed quite interested in Crookshanks, don't you think?" Hermione added.</p>
<p>Harry nodded. "And my sneakoscope," he said.</p>
<p>"Right!" Neville said excitedly, turning to Hermione. "That thing kept going off until Harry finally stuffed it in his sock."</p>
<p>"And it hasn't gone off at all this year," Harry said, "so it can't be that it's rubbish."</p>
<p>"And Ron <em>did</em> say that it did all sorts of weird things in Egypt," Hermione recalled. "I bet he can testify to that too."</p>
<p>"Madam Bones asked me to give it to Dumbledore so they can inspect it," Harry said.</p>
<p>"Well, if they're looking for corroborating evidence, they must believe you, right?" Neville said, looking between them both.</p>
<p>"Dumbledore said he thinks Madam Bones does believe us," Harry said, "but without Pettigrew, it's still a hard sell."</p>
<p>They sat in silence considering that.</p>
<p>"Well," Neville said, "the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement believing you is a lot better off than Sirius was yesterday, isn't it?"</p>
<p>Harry smiled and grabbed another biscuit.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The next day, Neville and his gran went to the hospital to visit his parents. He'd been a mixture of sad and excited before he left—they didn't recognize him, but Neville liked talking to them anyway. Augusta made Harry and Hermione promise not to use the Auror Room while she was gone—no dueling without adult supervision was apparently a rule, despite the fact that she'd been nowhere near the Auror Room during any of their training sessions—and so Harry and Hermione found themselves wandering around the house after breakfast.</p>
<p>Their schoolwork was done, and after the excitement of the day before, she didn't have the heart to suggest they study any more theory for the spells they were working on. Harry had mastered more than a dozen new spells this visit, and she thought he deserved a bit of a break. Besides, when the Longbottoms returned, they could always go in the Auror Room then.</p>
<p>"We can go by the portrait gallery again," Harry suggested as they ambled down a deserted corridor. "Maybe they'd be more willing to talk about house elves."</p>
<p>"Maybe," Hermione said, "though the last time I was there, Diggy got really offended."</p>
<p>"She likes you," Harry said.</p>
<p>"More than most house elves, maybe," Hermione agreed. "She always has nice things to say about me when it comes to Neville. But when I tried to talk to her the other day, she sniffed at me that she heard the nonsense debates I had with her mistress and I was a silly girl."</p>
<p>"Maybe it's best to just let Neville talk to her about her rights then," Harry suggested.</p>
<p>Neville. Luna. Harry. <em>Everyone</em> seemed to know how to talk to house elves but Hermione.</p>
<p>"What's wrong with me?" she blurted out, and she must have looked quite nutters, because Harry appeared a bit frightful.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.</p>
<p>"You talk to Dobby once and he becomes your best friend," Hermione explained, "and Luna paints them some pictures and they love her. And Neville—they all like him, too. But me? I'm just that unlikable shrew."</p>
<p>She could hear the envy in her voice, and she didn't like it.</p>
<p>"You're not unlikable and you're not a <em>shrew</em>," Harry said.</p>
<p>"No, just overbearing and bossy and—"</p>
<p>"And some of us wouldn't be alive if you were any other way," Harry pointed out quietly, gently touching her arm to keep her from continuing their walk. They were standing in front of the Auror Room. "If you recall, I didn't exactly appreciate it at first, either. But now? The house elves will come around, too."</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip, considering what he said seriously. "So what? You don't think I'll ever be able to talk to house elves? You don't think I'm capable of change?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I think you're probably capable of anything you set your mind to," Harry shrugged. "But you've got friends who can do that bit with the house elves for you, and I like you exactly as you are, so there's really no need for you to change, is there?"</p>
<p>He smiled at her and then continued to walk down the hall. Hermione stared after him, a bit stunned. She knew Neville liked the bossy side of her—that was the side that kept him alive in Potions—but she had always assumed Harry and Ron only liked her in spite of that. They'd fought a troll together, and that had cemented a bond—but while she knew they liked her very much and cared about her, she figured neither of them was overly fond of her bossy side. They had always grumbled when she set up study schedules for them or referred to her appeals to their safety as "lectures."</p>
<p>But here Harry was, telling her he liked every aspect of her—even the flaws. And, well, when she thought about it, he hadn't exactly minded her study schedules this break, had he?</p>
<p>She hurried to catch up with him, but Harry was standing in front of the door Neville always hurried past, studying it closely.</p>
<p>"What do you suppose is in there?" he asked.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Hermione said quietly. She could tell Harry was itching to open the door—she was too, if she was being honest—but neither of them let their curiosity win over Neville's need for privacy. He'd tell them about it when he was ready.</p>
<p>"Come on," Harry murmured. "Let's go to the Secret Garden."</p>
<p>Hermione grinned at the nickname, and followed him outside, into the greenhouse and through the secret door. Harry turned and his face lit up as she entered.</p>
<p>"You really like it here, too, huh?" she asked, absentmindedly touching a nearby rose.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry agreed.</p>
<p>"It's just so peaceful isn't it?" Hermione asked, as they walked down the winding path. She could feel Harry's eyes on her.</p>
<p>"Yeah," he agreed, and they walked in companionable silence.</p>
<p>"What's up with the Girding Potion?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Oh, that," Hermione cried. She'd completely forgotten about her silent promise to Harry to explain that later. "Well, we know the wizarding world doesn't exactly care about Snape being a former Death Eater—but what if we could prove he's a bad teacher?"</p>
<p>"How do you mean?" Harry asked, his brow furrowed.</p>
<p>"Well, you gave me the idea, really," she said, "before we saw Moody outside Snape's office. You said that all Snape does is write the instructions that are already in the book on the board, and flap about the classroom insulting us. And, well, you were right."</p>
<p>She turned toward Harry and gave him a little grin.</p>
<p>"So I figured, what if I could prove he's not a good teacher," she explained. "Snape always makes Neville so nervous, so if we could see what Neville's potion looks like when he's not around, and compare it to when Snape <em>is</em> around—"</p>
<p>"We can see how much Snape affects Neville," Harry finished.</p>
<p>"Yes, exactly!" Hermione beamed. "But I didn't want Neville to <em>know</em> what I was doing because that might've made him nervous and affected the results. So you can't tell him until after we make that potion in class!"</p>
<p>She turned toward Harry, giving him a bossy sort of look, and Harry held up his hands in agreement.</p>
<p>"That's brilliant," Harry grinned, but then his smile faded.</p>
<p>Do you think that'll be enough?" he asked skeptically. "One potion from one student?"</p>
<p>"Probably not," Hermione admitted. "But it's a start, isn't it? I'm sure there are loads of ways to prove Snape is a bad teacher. And Potions is a necessary class for a lot of good jobs. If we can prove that pureblood kids are missing out on cushy jobs, parents might care about <em>that</em>, even if they don't care he was a Death Eater."</p>
<p>She scowled a bit, thinking about the hypocrisy of the wizarding world, and Harry's face faltered. She could see him tensing up.</p>
<p>"What?" she asked.</p>
<p>Harry was silent for a moment before admitting, "I don't like talking about Snape here."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. She understood completely—there was something so serene, so calming about this garden. Snape had no place here. They walked in silence a bit more.</p>
<p>"How do you think Ron's hearing is going?" Harry asked suddenly.</p>
<p>"Good, I'm sure," Hermione answered as confidently as she could. "You know he'll have loads to say about Crookshanks and Scabbers.</p>
<p>"And, I mean, Pettigrew slept in his <em>bed,</em>" she added, shuddering at the thought. "The panel will have to know you can't fake that sort of revulsion."</p>
<p>She frowned inwardly. She didn't really want to talk about Pettigrew in here either. "I'm sure Sirius will be free in no time," she declared. "And then you can go and live with him."</p>
<p>How she wished Harry would never have to spend another second in the Dursleys' company.</p>
<p>Harry stiffened beside her. "He was really mad at me," he finally said, "for what happened with Crouch."</p>
<p>Hermione felt offended on Harry's behalf. "But that wasn't your fault," she practically exploded. "We tried to do the right thing and go to Dumbledore!"</p>
<p>"He wasn't mad about that," Harry said. "He was mad at how I reacted to the Killing Curse."</p>
<p>Hermione's heart clenched and she inhaled sharply. They still hadn't talked about this—not really. And she wasn't sure if it was because Harry assumed she knew exactly why he'd done what he'd done or because he didn't want to talk about it. She'd gone over it and over it in her mind—but still couldn't come to any conclusions except that she'd felt both honored and terrified by his willingness to die for her.</p>
<p>"What did you tell him?" she asked.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "That I thought you were in trouble and I reacted," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione grazed her hand over the passing flowers, looking at them intently, studiously avoiding Harry's gaze. She <em>wanted</em> to see every little reaction, but she knew it would be easier for him to talk about if she wasn't watching his every move.</p>
<p>"Well sure," she said, trying—and failing—for nonchalant. "You would've tried to help anyone, wouldn't you?"</p>
<p>She could feel Harry studying her. "If you're asking if I'd do that for anyone, I don't know," he said honestly. "I don't know how I'd react if it was a stranger or a friend or what. I don't think you can know until you're in that moment. But I know what I'd do if it were you."</p>
<p>"That you were willing to do that for me, that you cared that much—it meant a lot," she said carefully.</p>
<p>"You've done the same for me loads of times," Harry said uncomfortably.</p>
<p>She turned to look at him incredulously, stilling the both of them. "The Killing Curse is different," she insisted. "You know it is."</p>
<p>Harry was silent.</p>
<p>"As much as I appreciate what you did, you can't go around putting yourself in danger like that," she said, and to her chagrin, it even <em>sounded </em>a bit like a lecture. She'd just wanted to tell him that she cared too, but instead, she sounded like Professor McGonagall docking points.</p>
<p>She sighed. "I just mean—I don't want anything to happen to you, Harry!" she blurted.</p>
<p>It wasn't the most elegant sentence, but it was a whole lot better than a lecture.</p>
<p>She searched his eyes, and saw understanding there.</p>
<p>"You sound like Sirius. He made me promise not to do anything like that again. He said that if he had it his way, I would be focused on school and snogging," Harry said, smiling a bit, trying to lighten the mood.</p>
<p><em>Well.</em> Hermione was fine with the school part, but she felt great displeasure at the thought of Harry snogging some faceless girl.</p>
<p>"Well, good," she said awkwardly, nodding a bit, and continued on their path. Harry fell into step with her. "I'm glad we're in agreement then."</p>
<p>"Course, when we were in that cave, I promised him I'd keep my head down at Hogwarts—and that didn't exactly happnen," Harry added.</p>
<p>Hermione looked up at him sharply. "What does that mean?"</p>
<p>"It means that I made the promise because… Sirius was beating himself up over everything," Harry explained, kicking at a stray rock. "He didn't say it in so many words, but he told me how he felt like he'd let my parents down, not being around all these years. And it felt different, having an adult who actually cared. So if making the promise gave him a little peace of mind… He's living in a cave for <em>me.</em> He's risking the dementor's kiss every second he stays in this country—for <em>me. </em>And we didn't know about Moody and Pettigrew then—that promise was the only thing I could do to help him."</p>
<p>Harry's face had turned a bit red and he wasn't exactly looking at Hermione. He wasn't someone who usually talked about his feelings or his problems—Harry was more likely to stick with sarcastic comments—so the fact that he'd opened up to her this much, trusted her with it, she knew what that meant for him.</p>
<p>Harry shook his head. "But do you honestly think if we were in the same situation again, I wouldn't try to save you?" Harry asked. "Wouldn't you?"</p>
<p>Of course she would try to save him. Obviously, she would.</p>
<p>"I would," she agreed, and Harry smiled with relief, glad she understood.</p>
<p>Right, she thought. She and Harry were both giant Gryffindor idiots who would risk death to protect each other—so it was up to her to make sure they never found themselves in that situation ever again.</p>
<p>Harry walked over to the Wiggentree and sat on the swing. Hermione sat beside him, and they rocked in companionable silence, watching the breeze sway the visage of pink, white and orange flowers in front of them.</p>
<p>There weren't many people she was comfortable sitting in silence with like this—but she and Harry didn't always need words to communicate.</p>
<p>After a time, he broke their silence.</p>
<p>"It'd be nice, wouldn't it?" he mused. "Getting to live with Sirius. Somewhere totally open, somewhere with lots of land, where he'd never have to feel like he's in a cage again."</p>
<p>Where neither of them would feel like they were in a cage again, she thought, but wisely kept that to herself.</p>
<p>"You could have a Quidditch pitch," Hermione offered.</p>
<p>"We could have three," Harry laughed. "And a dozen bedrooms—plus one for Crookshanks, of course."</p>
<p>"Oh, am I invited to spend the summer then?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Well, Crookshanks is," Harry teased, and he grinned at her.</p>
<p>It wasn't often that Harry daydreamed. It wasn't often that he looked as light as he did now, and it completely transformed his face. His eyes were brighter, and she found herself drawn to the carefree curve of his lips—he really did have quite a nice smile.</p>
<p>Harry shifted in the seat and his forearm brushed against hers—and to Hermione's surprise, electricity shot straight from her arm to her stomach, which became a mess of rampaging butterflies.</p>
<p><em>Oh god</em>, she thought. Was this what Ginny had meant when she talked about meeting a bloke and a <em>zing</em> going through you?</p>
<p>But it couldn't be. This was <em>Harry</em>. She had been his friend for years—surely, if she fancied him, she would have noticed before now?</p>
<p>She looked at Harry again. His smile was gone, she realized, feeling a sense of loss. He was studying her quizzically since she'd gone silent, and the intent look in his eyes made her stomach flip yet again.</p>
<p>"You alright, Hermione?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Yeah," she practically wheezed. "Just thinking about what Hedwig would think about Crookshanks getting his own room."</p>
<p>"Oh, well, Hedwig will have the entire top floor as an owlery," Harry explained, grinning again. He had a faint freckle right above his upper lip that she'd never noticed before.</p>
<p>"Naturally," Hermione said faintly, looking anywhere but at that freckle.</p>
<p>This was <em>Harry</em>.</p>
<p>But, the rational side of her thought, why <em>shouldn't </em>she fancy Harry? He was kind and smart and funny and brave and he'd proven a thousand times over how much he cared about her—and it wasn't just the Killing Curse. He'd danced with her at the Yule Ball even though he hated dancing, hadn't he? And he'd visited her in the hospital wing and hexed Malfoy for insulting her. And he'd searched her out, bringing her cloak to her, when she'd been walking outside the castle in the middle of February, freezing without one. She was the person he'd sorely miss. And he'd told Ron he had to treat her better, risking his friendship with his first friend. She and Harry had been friends forever, had been through so much together, and all this year, he'd made it a point to put her first.</p>
<p>He was the sort of person to care about house elves and who would always protect his friends—he liked Luna even though everyone else thought she was a bit odd, and he gave Neville confidence, and he had unshakeable faith in Hermione—and, honestly, you'd have to be a bit of an idiot <em>not</em> to fancy him, wouldn't you?</p>
<p>Hermione glanced over at Harry again, feeling unsettled. What on earth was she supposed to do now? He was sitting there, thinking that he was spending time with his best friend, and all she could do was look at that freckle above his lip and wonder what it would be like to snog him.</p>
<p>What would happen if she just did it? She was a Gryffindor, wasn't she? She could be just as impulsive as the rest.</p>
<p>But something held her back—what if he didn't feel the same way? He'd never given her any indication—though Angelina <em>had </em>said Fred thought Harry had been flirting with her at the ball, and Fred knew Harry just about as well as most anyone did aside from her.</p>
<p>Of course, she knew it was nonsense. Harry still liked Cho then.</p>
<p>But just because he'd never given any indication he fancied her didn't mean he <em>couldn't</em>. She hadn't exactly given him any indication of interest, and here she was, staring at his lips like they were a library full of new books for her to read.</p>
<p>Maybe it was possible.</p>
<p>But maybe it wasn't.</p>
<p>She watched his profile, took in the way his hair fluttered in the breeze, the way his fingers drummed absently on the armrest. She was a little surprised at the way her mind shifted so easily to this new reality of fancying Harry, but, at the same time, it felt a little inevitable, didn't it? He was the friend who knew her best, the friend who liked her as she was, the friend she would do anything for.</p>
<p>It's not that she was worried something would happen to their friendship if he didn't feel the same way. He'd been willing to take a Killing Curse for her—a silly little crush wouldn't break them. But she couldn't help thinking about the fact that You-Know-Who was still out there and he could still have a plan in play for the third task—she had to keep Harry safe and they couldn't afford any distractions, whether those distractions were short-term awkwardness after he rejected her or snogging sessions in some broom closet.</p>
<p>She blushed furiously at the very thought.</p>
<p>Their lives were complicated, but she felt her resolve building. She'd help get Harry through this blasted tournament, and once that was over, she'd rally her inner Gryffindor and take the direct approach.</p>
<p>Save Harry, Snog Harry—it was as good a plan as any.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0020"><h2>20. Chapter 20</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On Sunday morning, a rather cold and dreary day, Mrs. Longbottom and Diggy brought the trio back to King's Cross station. Harry and Hermione thanked Neville's gran for letting them stay, and when she responded that they could come back anytime, Harry could tell she really meant it.</p>
<p>They stowed their bags and settled into an empty compartment.</p>
<p>"Do you think we should try to find Ron and Ginny?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Hermione looked at her watch and frowned. "We got here pretty early and the Weasleys are almost always late," she commented. "I bet they're not here yet."</p>
<p>Neville revealed a bag of muffins Diggy had made for the ride and Harry took a bite, as Hermione told them about a train trip she and her parents had gone on through Austria and Switzerland one summer.</p>
<p>"That was my favorite trip there," she explained. "Usually, we go for skiing."</p>
<p>Neville frowned in confusion. "What's skiing?"</p>
<p>As Hermione explained the sport—her parents were big fans—and how it involved sliding down a mountain strapped to two narrow bits of wood, Neville's face grew more and more horrified.</p>
<p>"And that's <em>fun</em>?" he whispered.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned—she didn't like it much when wizards made fun of muggles. "Well, it's not all that different from zooming around in the air on a stick of wood at high speeds, is it?"</p>
<p>Harry thought they were probably very different activities, but Neville just shook his head aghast. "Well, I don't much fancy flying on a broomstick either," he pointed out, earning a laugh from Hermione, who realized Neville's horror was directed toward <em>any</em> dangerous extracurricular—magical or muggle.</p>
<p>"Well, to tell you the truth, I'm not a <em>huge</em> fan of the skiing," she admitted, glancing between them both. "It's fine, I suppose, but I much prefer sitting by the fire and reading a book."</p>
<p>Harry exchanged an amused glance with Neville. "<em>What?"</em> Harry said in mock disbelief. "Hermione Granger prefers books?"</p>
<p>Neville grinned conspiratorially. "This is brand new information," he added.</p>
<p>"Oh, shut up," Hermione retorted, though there was no real bite in her words. "I do <em>other </em>things, too."</p>
<p>"Clearly," Harry answered. "You've done loads more than me—I've never been skiing or camping or done anything like those museum days you do with your dad."</p>
<p>Neville looked at them questioningly.</p>
<p>"Once a month, dad and I would always go into London," Hermione explained, as she sat back in her seat and crossed her legs. "We'd go to the British Museum, the National Portrait Gallery, the V&amp;A. Or, we'd go to Westminster or St. Paul's. We'd do all the tourist activities and make a day of it."</p>
<p>"That sounds fun," Neville commented, and from the certainty in his voice, Harry guessed Muggle Studies had at least mentioned some of those places.</p>
<p>"It is," Hermione agreed enthusiastically. "Now that I go to Hogwarts, we try to fit a year's worth of museum days into the summer."</p>
<p>"And your mum doesn't go?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "Not unless we have tickets to the theater," she explained. "Usually Shakespeare. She's a <em>huge</em> fan of Shakespeare."</p>
<p>"Really?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him incredulously. "My name is Hermione," she said, as if this was supposed to mean something to him.</p>
<p>Harry exchanged a glance with Neville, who looked similarly unsure. Hermione rolled her eyes.</p>
<p>"Hermione is a character in one of his plays," she explained, "though I suppose not one of the more well-known ones. Mum said she didn't want to name me Juliet or Ophelia or Desdemona or one of the really famous names."</p>
<p>"<em>Desdemona</em> Granger?" Harry asked, laughing a bit.</p>
<p>Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Hermione <em>is</em> better than that," she agreed. "Even if it's a bit unusual."</p>
<p>"I like it," Neville declared.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry smiled. "It suits you. It's one of a kind, just like you."</p>
<p>Hermione turned extremely red at that, and Harry, unsure if he'd said something wrong, added, "I just mean… well, I always had four other Harrys in my class, didn't I?"</p>
<p>Returning to a normal shade, Hermione nodded and leaned her head against the window, watching as the late-comers arrived at platform nine and three-quarters. They were all silent for a while before Neville finally blurted out, "But don't the skiers run into each other? It seems fairly dangerous, doesn't it? And how do you get <em>up </em>the mountain?"</p>
<p>And so Hermione explained the particulars of controlling your speed, how to turn, and the lifts and trams, and Neville looked intrigued yet still vaguely terrified.</p>
<p>Hermione eyed Harry speculatively. "I bet you'd really like skiing," she declared.</p>
<p>"Well sure," Neville agreed, "but he's the sort who thinks being chased by a bludger on a broomstick is fun."</p>
<p>Harry had never really thought about whether he'd like skiing or not. All of his life, muggle activities—with the exception of school and chores—had been completely out of reach. Skiing, camping, swimming, going to a museum or even to a movie—these were all activities that sent him straight to Mrs. Figg's while Dudley got to enjoy the fun.</p>
<p>And then he'd found out he was a wizard, and freedom had meant flying and eating ice cream for breakfast in Diagon Alley; it hadn't even occurred to him that there'd come a time when freedom from the Dursleys would mean he could do whatever he wanted in the muggle world, too.</p>
<p>His focus ever since he'd found out that Madam Bones was looking into Sirius' case had been on freeing Sirius and then what it would be like when they lived together—but if he were exonerated, they could also do something as normal as go on a holiday.</p>
<p>Would Sirius like skiing? Had he ever <em>been </em>skiing? Harry guessed he hadn't, but if it really was like flying, he had a suspicion Sirius would really like it, too.</p>
<p>And, he thought, with a glance at Hermione, who was still studying him with that knowing look of hers, he'd <em>also</em> bet anything that Hermione would like skiing a whole lot more if she was with a couple of beginners whom she got to teach the particulars to.</p>
<p>"What?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Just thinking about Sirius skiing," Harry answered—it was mostly true—and Hermione beamed.</p>
<p>"If I were him, after the past 13 years, I'd want something a bit more relaxing," Neville said. "Like a beach holiday."</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "That sounds good," he said. "I've never been on one of those either."</p>
<p>He hesitated, wondering if he was somehow jinxing Sirius by coming up with all of these plans before he'd even been freed. He'd promised himself he'd have enough hope for both him <em>and</em> Sirius, but what if he was just fooling himself?</p>
<p>"Harry?" Neville asked, peering at him shrewdly, and from the look on both his and Hermione's faces, he guessed that they knew what he'd been thinking.</p>
<p>Harry didn't like talking about his feelings, but it was different with the two of them. Hermione always seemed to know what Harry was feeling anyway, regardless of if he said anything or not, and the things Neville had been through were so similar to Harry that he knew Neville would always understand.</p>
<p>"I got my hopes up once before," Harry said. "Last year. It was the best half hour of my life, thinking I'd never have to go back to the Dursleys, thinking I'd live with Sirius. But I ruined everything when I let Pettigrew escape."</p>
<p>"That wasn't your fault, Harry," Hermione said sharply. "There were a lot of contributing factors—what if it hadn't been a full moon? What if Professor Lupin remembered he hadn't taken his potion? What if Snape actually brought the potion to the Shrieking Shack? What if Snape actually <em>listened</em> to us? What if we'd all decided to bind Pettigrew to someone besides Lupin and Ron? It's not on you."</p>
<p>"And who said hoping is a bad thing?" Neville asked. "If you don't expect good things and try to make them happen—well—then they probably won't. I wouldn't have a new wand if you two had given up without even trying."</p>
<p>Harry considered that.</p>
<p>And then Neville straightened and his face lit up. "Besides," he said, "even if Sirius doesn't get exonerated yet, who says you have to go back to the Dursleys."</p>
<p>Harry frowned. "Well, I've got to go somewhere," he pointed out.</p>
<p>"So you'll come to my house—you and Sirius!" Neville said excitedly.</p>
<p>Hermione and Harry exchanged a wordless glance—if Sirius wasn't exonerated, he'd still be considered a fugitive. Harry was amazed, unsure if Neville knew what he was offering.</p>
<p>"It'd be perfect," Neville continued, smiling. "We've got the Fidelius, so it's not like the Ministry would ever be able to find him there. And who'd ever suspect prim and proper Augusta Longbottom of hiding a fugitive?"</p>
<p>"I can't ask your gran—"</p>
<p>Neville waved him off. "She wouldn't mind," he said, and there was so much conviction in Neville's voice, Harry almost believed it.</p>
<p>"I've lived with her my whole life," Neville reminded Harry. "If the Ministry tries to bury Sirius' case, she won't like that at all."</p>
<p>Neville looked rather pleased with himself for coming up with such a good solution—everything about him was so sure, so confident in what he'd said. Harry felt a wave of gratefulness wash over him—it was one thing for Neville to offer to take in Harry. It was another thing entirely to offer to take in his fugitive godfather.</p>
<p>Not knowing exactly what to say, how to thank him, Harry said, "You're a really good friend."</p>
<p>Neville beamed and the train lurched—the last of the families who had waited to see the Hogwarts Express start moving sped quickly out of view—and Hermione was proven right about the Weasleys when a harried-looking Ginny opened their compartment door. Her clothes looked rumpled, her hair was damp and she had an annoyed look on her face.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" Hermione asked immediately, sitting up a bit straighter.</p>
<p>"Oh, nothing," Ginny replied, as she displaced Crookshanks from his seat next to Neville. Crookshanks hopped up next to Harry instead. "Fred forgot his Transfiguration book and then Ron forgot the essays he'd worked on, and then George realized he didn't have his broom, and we've only just arrived."</p>
<p>"Where's Ron?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Ginny rolled her eyes. "He ditched me as soon as we got on and ran into Seamus," she said.</p>
<p>"Oh," Harry said. "Do you know how his meeting with Amelia Bones went?"</p>
<p>"Fine, I think," Ginny replied distractedly, as she pulled her hair into a ponytail. "He and dad didn't say much about it, but they didn't say anything bad."</p>
<p>"Oh," Harry said, trying not to sound too glum. "Well, that's good."</p>
<p>He couldn't help but feel disappointed at Ginny's lack of information, and when he turned toward the window, Hermione was giving him a commiserating look.</p>
<p>"How was your break?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>Ginny made another face. "Awful," she said. "Mum was so freaked out about Crouch, and she kept pestering Ron about why Harry and Hermione went to your place for break instead of ours. And Ron kept skirting the issue, so they were both in foul moods, so then she started pestering <em>me</em> about why I hexed Ron at the ball, so I told her. And then Ron <em>and</em> the twins were mad at me for breaking our code of silence about mum, but honestly, I was helping Ron out. She was thinking up all of these awful scenarios that were way worse than what actually happened, and anyway, you've got it all sorted now, so what's the big deal?"</p>
<p>Hermione scrunched up her face. "That does sound awful," she replied. "Sorry about that."</p>
<p>Ginny waved her hand dismissively. "It's not your fault," she said. "Besides, that was only the half of it. Fred and George spent all their time in their room, and when Mum found out they were working on things for their joke shop, <em>they</em> had a row. And Percy was being more uptight than usual—he's gotten a lot of flak at work on account of Barty Crouch Sr. And then Ron got that notice from the Ministry to appear about Sirius Black, and he had to explain to Mum and Dad what you three had gotten up to last year. Dad was okay about it, but Mum about went through the roof."</p>
<p>Normally, Harry very much enjoyed spending time at the Burrow, but he couldn't help but be very glad that he'd spent this break at Neville's.</p>
<p>"Anyway," Ginny said, "how was your break?"</p>
<p>She looked around expectantly, and Harry didn't have the heart to tell her how much better their break had been. From Diggy's thoughtful meals, to Augusta's stories, to the hours spent in the Auror Room and the Secret Garden, to the blanket that he'd tucked carefully away when he'd packed, everything about this Easter had been wonderful.</p>
<p>"It was really good!" Neville replied, and then he took out his new wand. "Look what Gran bought me!"</p>
<p>"Brilliant!" Ginny replied happily, as he showed off his new skills, levitating a muffin toward her.</p>
<hr/>
<p>A half hour into the train ride, Harry was very much enjoying Hermione, Neville and Ginny's company—her mood had vastly improved once her hair dried and she'd eaten two muffins—but Harry couldn't stand not knowing anymore what had happened with Amelia Bones.</p>
<p>"I'm going to go find Ron," he announced, standing up.</p>
<p>Hermione looked up from the book she was absentmindedly flipping through. "Do you want company?" she asked.</p>
<p>She looked quite content settled into the corner of the compartment with Crookshanks sidled up beside her, chatting happily with Ginny about Charlie's latest letter from Romania, and Harry didn't want to disturb her peace.</p>
<p>Harry shook his head. "It's all right," he said. "I'll bring him back here, so he can tell all of us."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded and Harry exited the compartment and headed down the corridor, searching for some sign of Ron or Seamus. He found them at the very end of the train sitting with Parvati and Lavender.</p>
<p>The four of them were laughing wildly at some story Ron was telling about George and a punching telescope. Ron's smile was wide, and he looked happier and more relaxed than Harry had seen him in a long time. He must have gotten over his bad mood.</p>
<p>"Harry!" Ron grinned, interrupting himself.</p>
<p>"How was your break?" Lavender asked.</p>
<p>They all agreed they'd had a good time—Ron didn't mention any of the things that Ginny had told Harry—and after exchanging all of the usual pleasantries, Harry looked to Ron.</p>
<p>"Do you have a minute?" he asked, motioning him out the door.</p>
<p>Ron frowned. "Sit down, mate," he said. "There's plenty of room."</p>
<p>Harry looked around nervously. He <em>really</em> didn't want to talk about Sirius here, not when everything about the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was still so unsure. "Er, I wanted to ask you about…" he trailed off, gesturing helplessly, and Ron's eyes widened.</p>
<p>"Oh, right!" he said, getting up and turning to the other Gryffindors. "We'll see you later."</p>
<p>As they exited the compartment, Harry saw Seamus roll his eyes at Lavender.</p>
<p>"What was that about?" Harry asked, as they walked down the corridor.</p>
<p>"What?" Ron asked uncomfortably, but Harry got the impression that Ron knew exactly what he was talking about.</p>
<p>"Seamus' look," Harry replied.</p>
<p>"Oh, that," Ron said, his face turning a little red. "Well, apparently, Seamus and the others think we're a bit…secretive."</p>
<p>
  <em>Secretive?</em>
</p>
<p>"Can't imagine where they got that idea," Ron added, grinning. "It's not like we ever ran around the castle fighting trolls or giant spiders or anything."</p>
<p>Okay, so maybe they had a point.</p>
<p>"Anyway," Ron added awkwardly, "Seamus sort of made this comment about how they all figured since you and I started talking again, that maybe I wouldn't, you know, hang out with them as much."</p>
<p>Harry frowned. He hadn't really thought about it, but Ron had spent a lot of the past few months hanging out with the other Gryffindors in their year. Ron couldn't drop them any more than Harry was willing to drop Neville just because Ron was back.</p>
<p>"It's not like I don't want them around," Harry said. "It's just—"</p>
<p>"I know," Ron agreed easily. "But it's not like I could say, 'Well, we're going to go talk about Harry's godfather now, who, by the way, is <em>not</em> a psychotic murderer who tried to kill us all last year.' Lavender would have a <em>billion</em> questions and we'd be back at Hogwarts and miss dinner before we finally got away."</p>
<p>Harry grinned, and was about to make a joke about nicking down to the kitchens, but stopped himself—he really didn't want to bring up house elves with Ron right now.</p>
<p>"So… your break was okay, then?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Ron's expression turned gloomy. "No," he complained. "Mum was a nightmare and Ginny was no better. And Percy was his usual charming self—I seriously contemplated locking him up in the attic with the ghoul."</p>
<p>"I'm surprised Fred and George didn't," Harry commented, and Ron grinned.</p>
<p>"How was your break?" Ron asked, smiling knowingly. "Let me guess: Hermione had you on a strict study schedule? Were there practice exams?"</p>
<p>As soon as he said it, Ron looked uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"I didn't mean anything bad… well I just meant… well, she <em>likes</em> studying, doesn't she?" he finished, looking a little flustered.</p>
<p>It had been like that ever since Harry had yelled at Ron about the house elves before break—he'd been overly polite to Hermione whenever he spoke directly to her, like he was afraid anything he said would set Harry off. Harry had hoped things would be better after break, but Ron still seemed unsure where the line was.</p>
<p>"It's not like I think you've got to agree with everything she says," Harry said. "You're different people, I know that. I just think there's a difference between joking, 'Where's Hermione? She must be in the library,' and calling her obsessed when it's something she's passionate about or saying things that make her cry."</p>
<p>Ron nodded, but he looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt, so Harry forged ahead and answered Ron's question.</p>
<p>"My break was fine," Harry said. "Better than fine, actually. And, you're right, there was a schedule. But it was a lot of fun."</p>
<p>There hadn't been a moment over the break when they'd been practicing in the Auror Room or studying in the garden that had felt like work.</p>
<p>Ron looked like he didn't quite believe studying could ever be fun.</p>
<p>"Neville's gran isn't a stickler about not doing magic outside of school, so we had loads of time to practice," Harry explained. "It doesn't really feel like studying when you're blasting things apart."</p>
<p>"Wish Mum was like that," Ron grumbled.</p>
<p>The Weasley kids did plenty of magic at home—usually to play jokes on each other—but Mrs. Weasley always got aggravated whenever they did.</p>
<p>They'd reached the compartment again. Ginny had left—probably a good thing given Ron's attitude toward her—and Ron said hello to Hermione and Neville.</p>
<p>Harry couldn't hold back anymore. "How did your meeting go?" he asked.</p>
<p>Ron grinned. "Really well," he said. "They asked me so many questions about Snape—why we attacked him, how he treats you. Honestly, it was like Christmas morning—a room full of adults asking me to describe in detail what an evil git Snape is."</p>
<p>Ron trailed off, a dreamy look on his face.</p>
<p>Finally, after he'd completed whatever fantasy he was having about doing something terrible to Snape—a feeling Harry couldn't help but sympathize with—Ron added, "They asked me plenty about Crookshanks, too."</p>
<p>He surveyed the cat, who was nestled between Harry and Hermione. "And they asked Dad about Scabbers—wanted to know how we missed an ordinary rat living for more than a decade," he reported.</p>
<p>"What'd your dad say?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Well, all magical rats have some sort of powers, don't they?" Ron asked, and Harry remembered the clerk in the store mentioning exactly that when they'd bought Crookshanks. "Dad said he and mum figured slow aging was his. Not a particularly useful skill, of course, but that would be just my luck."</p>
<p>"Do you think they believed you?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Dad reckons they did," Ron said. "He said that the twitch in Fudge's eye couldn't mean anything else."</p>
<p>Harry felt cheered at the thought.</p>
<p>He was still feeling happy at dinner that night when the four of them sat with the other Gryffindors their year. Dean, who had been invited to Seamus' but opted to stay at Hogwarts on account of all the work they had to do—he was no Hermione, but Dean was a lot more studious than Seamus—told them all how boring the past two weeks had been. Ron glossed over his break, and Parvati bragged about the shopping excursion she and Padma had gone on.</p>
<p>But, everyone agreed, no one had a better break than Neville.</p>
<p>"It'll be a lot less dangerous sitting next to you in class now, Neville," Seamus joked, inspecting Neville's new wand.</p>
<p>"Too bad the same can't be said for sitting next to you," Dean retorted, earning a light punch from his best friend.</p>
<p>Seamus and Ron debated the latest game between the Kenmare Kestrels and the Montrose Magpies, which Seamus had attended with his mum and Ron had listened to on the radio. Usually, Ron explained the game—and the players—in intricate detail for Harry and Hermione, since neither of them had ever attended a league game and didn't know any of the players well. But with a captive audience in each other, Ron and Seamus quickly forgot about the rest of the group, arguing over chaser strategy.</p>
<p>Harry felt a bit left out—he didn't know anything about the Kestrel's playbook or Marcus Webb's signature fakeout, and the conversation was a bit hard to follow without that particular information. Then he caught Dean's eye—the other boy shot him an amused glance and rolled his eyes at Seamus and Ron before returning to his pudding. Dean still preferred football to any other sport, something both Ron and Seamus found outrageous.</p>
<p>Harry turned to his right, where Neville, Hermione and Lavender were debating which creature Hagrid would be teaching them next in Care of Magical Creatures. Lavender thought for sure it would be a manticore, and while Harry secretly guessed that she probably wasn't much off the mark, in loyalty to Hagrid, Harry speculated that they'd learn about fwoopers, figuring Lavender would probably like the vivid birds.</p>
<p>Hermione shared a conspiratorial look with him that she knew exactly what he was doing, and Harry grinned.</p>
<p>So Ron had someone else to talk about quidditch with. There wasn't anything wrong with that—and Harry still had plenty of friends he liked being around, too.</p>
<p>The only bit of awkwardness came at the end of the night, when all five Gryffindor boys were in their dorm. Dean was lounging on his bed while the others unpacked.</p>
<p>Ron pulled out his pajamas and Harry noticed he'd never seen them before.</p>
<p>"Hey, those are new," he said.</p>
<p>Ron looked up. "Oh, yeah. The old ones got too short, so Mum got me these."</p>
<p>And then, with a sullen look at them, he added, "They're still maroon though. She always buys me rubbish stuff."</p>
<p>The maroon clothing that Mrs. Weasley bought was a common complaint for Ron—and Harry was quite used to it—though he noticed Neville glaring at Ron with contempt. He didn't really appreciate Ron's complaints about his family.</p>
<p>"Have you told her you don't like maroon?" Neville asked, his tone a touch cold.</p>
<p>Ron looked at him. "Of course I have," he said. "She never remembers."</p>
<p>"Well, then why not just try a color-switching spell?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"What?" Ron asked.</p>
<p>"Color-switching spells," Dean chimed in. "Parvati uses them all the time. I bet she could do it for you. The pajamas might have no-dye enchantments on them, but I doubt the jumpers your mum makes do."</p>
<p>"Oh," Ron said, before going back to his unpacking.</p>
<p>Harry stored his clothes, and then took his mother's blanket and placed it carefully on his bed.</p>
<p>"What's that?" Ron asked. He strode toward Harry's bed and inspected it, then grinned. "Wicked!" he declared, clearly impressed.</p>
<p>"Isn't it?" Harry grinned. "My mum made it."</p>
<p>And Ron, who rarely ever heard Harry talk about his mum, was flabbergasted. "Where'd you get it?" he asked curiously.</p>
<p>"Neville," Harry answered, with a grateful smile at the friend in question. "Our mothers were friends."</p>
<p>Ron's smile faded slightly before it brightened again. "Well, that's really cool," he said.</p>
<p>But as Harry got into bed that night—reflecting on Ron's faded smile and the severe look Neville had thrown Ron—Harry wondered if Ron and Neville would ever really be friends.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Now that they were back in school again, things seemed to move very quickly. Their teachers kept piling on the work and the only bright spot was the first Potions lesson—something Harry never thought he'd say—when Neville's Girding Potion had turned out a violent shade of purple, far from the color it was supposed to be.</p>
<p>Hermione looked completely victorious as she discreetly scooped some of Neville's potion into a couple of vials, and once she explained the plan to Neville when they were safely away from the dungeons—with an apology for not helping him during class—Neville had been overjoyed.</p>
<p>"Brilliant!" he said, a bit awed.</p>
<p>Then he added, with a sheepish grin, "And honestly, if it'll help get rid of Snape, you can let me mess up a million potions. I'm <em>spectacularly</em> good at that!"</p>
<p>The biggest difference in their schedule was that Alastor Moody—the <em>real</em> Alastor Moody—had been released from St. Mungo's and was teaching classes again—or rather, for the first time. Neville looked fairly terrified the first day they entered class and saw Moody standing there, and Harry couldn't really blame him.</p>
<p>Of course, he looked exactly like the man who had Imperiused Harry's best friends, but what was more unnerving was how similar they were—his mannerisms, how he spoke, what he said… If Harry didn't know better, he'd think Moody and Crouch were the same person.</p>
<p>"That was unsettling, right?" Hermione asked squeakily after their first lesson, glancing between Harry and Neville as they packed up their books. "I mean, he's…"</p>
<p>She trailed off, but they knew exactly what she meant.</p>
<p>Worse still was when Moody held them back—supposedly to thank them for figuring out Crouch's plan, but Harry suspected Moody was also sizing them up.</p>
<p>Finally, he turned to Harry and looked him straight in the eyes. "You know Voldemort's planning something, right?" he asked.</p>
<p>Harry nodded. He had always known it, but being back at Hogwarts and seeing the man Crouch had impersonated to get Harry's name in the goblet of fire had somehow made it more real to him. He was so used to being in danger at Hogwarts that he was in some ways desensitized to it—but seeing Moody, seeing the shock on his best friends' faces at the sight of him, seeing them reliving what they had been through had somehow jolted Harry into realizing that the third task wasn't some far off thing; it was a very real, very dangerous event that would be happening in two months.</p>
<p>He could forget skiing with Sirius and Hermione if he didn't figure out a way to get through the task first.</p>
<p>"Well, if you need any help with the task, just ask," Moody offered, seeming to understand that all three were still a bit wary of him.</p>
<p>Not sure how to answer and wanting to stall, Harry asked, "Isn't it against the rules?"</p>
<p>Moody snorted. "This is Voldemort, boy," he said. "Who cares about the rules of some meaningless tournament?"</p>
<p>Harry nodded.</p>
<p>"What do you think?" Harry asked his friends, after they'd left the classroom.</p>
<p>Hermione looked decisive. "I think we could use all the help we can get," she said briskly.</p>
<p>Harry wasn't entirely shocked by her answer. Since returning to Hogwarts, Hermione had become downright militant about his training. Every afternoon after classes, they spent hours in empty classrooms practicing spells, before having a very late dinner.</p>
<p>She'd always been serious about the tournament, of course, but now it was like she was singularly focused on their plan. If it was possible to win him this tournament through her sheer force of will, Harry was certain she'd be able to accomplish it.</p>
<p>Harry turned to Neville, who looked a little more hesitant, but then his face turned to one of resolve. "I'm okay with anyone who's willing to help you," he declared.</p>
<p>And so they spent three afternoons a week in Moody's classroom—the other days they worked on their own. Moody had taken a look at the list of spells Hermione had come up with and given her an approving nod, though he indicated to Harry that he'd be willing to show him a few darker spells as well.</p>
<p>"Voldemort won't hesitate to use them on you," he pointed out.</p>
<p>One by one, they worked through the list—Stupefy, Oppugno, Confundo, Incarcerous, the Stinging Jinx and Levicorpus. The last spell had been on Sirius' list, and while Harry mastered it fairly quickly, Hermione didn't like it much.</p>
<p>"It reminds me of the spell they used on those muggles at the World Cup," she'd confided to Harry, Neville and Ron one afternoon when they were practicing alone.</p>
<p>Ron, who had been on the receiving end of Harry's spell—Neville and Hermione were wearing their school robes and he was wearing muggle clothes—didn't really like it either.</p>
<p>"Could've aimed the landing a little better," he told Harry, rubbing his head. Harry hadn't righted him as smoothly as he'd dangled Ron in the air, and his friend had missed the pillows by a bit.</p>
<p>"Sorry," Harry said, and Ron waved him off.</p>
<p>Harry thought about Hermione's words. The spell <em>didn't</em> seem all that different from the one the Death Eaters had used. "But… isn't that the point?" Harry asked. "If I'm going up against Voldemort or Death Eaters, shouldn't I be using spells they would?"</p>
<p>He looked around at his friends. Neville's brow was furrowed, Ron looked a bit out of his depth and Hermione bit her lip.</p>
<p>"Moody offered to teach me some dark spells," he said quietly.</p>
<p>"Wow," Ron remarked, suitably impressed. Neville and Hermione shared a nervous glance.</p>
<p>"I didn't give him an answer yet," Harry added. He'd been thinking about the offer since their last session with Moody—those spells took a lot more time to learn. Could he master them in time? Or would he just be wasting time that would be better spent learning other things?</p>
<p>"What were you thinking of saying?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"I wanted to know what you lot thought," Harry said truthfully.</p>
<p>Ron was the first to speak. "It couldn't hurt, right?" he said. "You don't know what the third task will be and Krum, at least, will know spells like that. They teach the Dark Arts at Durmstrang."</p>
<p>"Dark magic is almost always advanced," Neville said. "It'd take a lot of time out of the schedule."</p>
<p>Harry turned to Hermione. "Is there enough time to learn them?" he asked. "Without sacrificing the other spells?" Since he didn't know what he was going up against, he'd rather learn a hundred useful spells than one or two.</p>
<p>Hermione looked like she was thinking a thousand things at once. "I think so," she said quietly, pacing a bit. "You've been moving through the list a lot faster than I expected. And I <em>do</em> want you to learn anything that could help you with the task."</p>
<p>Harry heard what she wasn't saying.</p>
<p>"There's a but, isn't there?" he asked.</p>
<p>Hermione looked up, surprised at his perception. She hesitated before admitting, "Well, yes. It's just… Well, it's like you said in the garden, isn't it? When we talked about the Killing Curse?"</p>
<p>Both Neville and Ron looked perplexed, but Harry knew exactly what she was talking about—he'd told her he didn't think you could know what you were going to do in a situation like that until you were in it.</p>
<p>"You can't know for sure what you'll do when you see him, Harry," she said. "And we only have a finite amount of time before the task—we have to use it wisely. Maybe we should stick to spells we know you'll use, so we don't have to worry that you'll end up getting hurt because you hesitate and he doesn't."</p>
<p>She looked unsure, and it unsettled Harry—Hermione was the most opinionated person he knew. He could see the two sides warring inside her: the militant side that had come up with his schedules, wanting him to survive by any means necessary, and the part of her that didn't think he was someone who could kill or torture.</p>
<p>Wrestling with these thoughts himself, he asked, "So what, you think I haven't got the guts to do it?"</p>
<p>It sounded a bit bitter, even to him.</p>
<p>"I think you've got more guts than anyone I know," Hermione said with conviction, and Neville was emphatically nodding his head.</p>
<p>Then, she added softly, "But I also think you're the best person I know."</p>
<p>She looked down, her face turning scarlet. Harry couldn't exactly be mad at her when she was complimenting him.</p>
<p>Would he hesitate? When he thought Sirius had betrayed his parents, he'd had him cornered, but he'd hesitated, which gave Remus enough time to come into the Shrieking Shack and disarm him. But had he hesitated because he couldn't do it or because he didn't know the right spells?</p>
<p>He hadn't let Pettigrew die that night either.</p>
<p>And yet, there was a difference between killing an unarmed man and using dark magic against Voldemort.</p>
<p>"Do you know what I was thinking when I was fighting Crouch?" he finally said.</p>
<p>Hermione eyed him curiously and shook her head wordlessly. Neville looked intrigued too, though Ron looked uncomfortable.</p>
<p>"That everything I knew was useless," Harry said. "That the only reason we were all still alive was because, for some reason, Voldemort didn't want Crouch to kill me at that moment. I was fighting a Death Eater with anything that could slow him down—I used the <em>tickling</em> spell at one point—just to try to bide time so that someone who knew what they were doing would get there."</p>
<p>"But you know loads more now, Harry," Neville pointed out. "Expulso and Oppugno aren't exactly nothing spells."</p>
<p>"But would they be enough?" Harry asked. "Against Voldemort?"</p>
<p>Ron and Neville both flinched once again at the name. Hermione twisted her hands anxiously.</p>
<p>"Hang on," Ron said, looking at them incredulously, "are we actually saying that You-Know-Who is going to turn up at the third task?"</p>
<p>He looked around at all of them, his mouth agape. "Well, it's a bit nutters, isn't it?" he cried. "In front of all those people? With <em>Dumbledore</em> right there?"</p>
<p>Harry let out a breath. He couldn't see Voldemort materializing right in front of Dumbledore.</p>
<p>"He'd need a body, too," Harry commented. "Pettigrew's far too invested in self-preservation to share his."</p>
<p>But Hermione still looked worried. She slowly shook her head. "I don't know," she said shakily. "But there's <em>something</em> about this task that's special, isn't there? Otherwise, Crouch wouldn't have helped you with the first two. Maybe it won't be You-Know-Who—but what if he sends another Death Eater?"</p>
<p>Harry stared at Hermione, wishing he had a good answer for her, but the more they discussed it, the more it became clear to him that he <em>should</em> be prepared for anything.</p>
<p>"I think I've got to say yes to Moody," he finally said. "Learn the spells and figure out if I'll use them later."</p>
<p>He looked at his friends: Ron and Neville looked like they agreed, and Hermione was contemplating his words.</p>
<p>"Besides," Neville added, "isn't that why Dumbledore wanted us to see the Unforgivables? Even if Harry doesn't use any dark spells, knowing what they look like could be useful."</p>
<p>And then Hermione looked Harry in the eyes, and he could see clarity in hers. She stood up straighter.</p>
<p>"Yes," she agreed, nodding, "that's probably the best way."</p>
<p>"You're sure?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Yes," she said. "You've been learning the spells so fast, I'm sure we can add some more in. And, besides, whatever happens at the third task, it'll be you deciding whichever spell feels right."</p>
<p>"What difference does that make?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Well," Hermione replied, her face a bit pink and her eyes earnest, "if dark magic doesn't feel right in the moment, you just won't use it. You always seem to know the best thing to do in high-pressure situations."</p>
<p>That was a nice way of saying that Harry had a knack for barely escaping almost certain death, but pride rippled through him at her compliment anyway.</p>
<p>So it was decided—he'd ask for Moody's help learning darker spells.</p>
<hr/>
<p>With Moody now involved in Harry's training, Hermione spent some of the afternoons Harry spent with Moody in the library, which Harry was a bit relieved by.</p>
<p>Moody hadn't taught him anything truly terrible yet—they were working on the Snare Curse, which produced ropes that bound your opponent, but then twisted and squeezed in a manner not unlike Devil's Snare—but Harry <em>liked</em> that she thought so highly of him, and he didn't want her looking at him any differently because of spells he now knew.</p>
<p>For his part, Neville still accompanied Harry to his meetings with Moody, and Harry suspected it was out of solidarity—to make sure this wasn't some <em>other</em> Death Eater impersonator trying to catch Harry unaware.</p>
<p>Harry would be lying if he said he didn't check the map to make sure Moody really was who he said he was.</p>
<p>Ron sometimes trained with them, and sometimes stayed in Gryffindor Tower with Seamus and Dean. And, of course, on Wednesday afternoons, he had chess club. (A couple of months back, Seamus had apparently gotten so fed up with his latest loss against Ron that he'd dragged him to the club meeting, with a retort that if Ron wanted to play chess so much, he should play it against people who actually knew what they were doing. And Ron had liked the club so much he continued to go even without Seamus for company.)</p>
<p>While Harry was glad Hermione wasn't around to see him performing dark spells, he found he missed her more than usual. They'd been inseparable the past few months, especially the two weeks they'd spent at Neville's.</p>
<p>He, Moody and Neville finished up practice early one evening—Harry had managed to squeeze apart a thick cast of cement—and while Neville was ready to head down to the Great Hall, Harry stopped by the library first to see if Hermione was ready to eat too.</p>
<p>He found her sitting in the corner, half hidden behind a large stack of books with no titles—only years—talking feverishly with Lavender and Parvati. <em>That </em>was unusual.</p>
<p>"What's up?" Harry asked, as he approached the table. The three girls looked up.</p>
<p>"Hi, Harry," Hermione greeted him, smiling warmly, while Lavender and Parvati giggled.</p>
<p>"Hi, Harry!" they said, grabbing their books and standing. "See you later, Hermione!"</p>
<p>Harry slid into the seat Parvati had just vacated, while Hermione looked distractedly through her notes. Harry eyed the two girls as they exited the library.</p>
<p>"Do I want to know what they were giggling about?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Oh, just the plan," Hermione murmured, organizing her parchments.</p>
<p>"Which one?" Harry asked, confused. Hermione had been focused on the Third Task Plan for a while now, but he didn't see what Parvati and Lavender would find funny about that.</p>
<p>Hermione looked up, wide-eyed. "Oh, the Snape plan," she said. "They're helping with the Snape plan."</p>
<p>"How?"</p>
<p>"They saw my vials of Neville's potions in the dorm, and they offered to give me some of theirs from class," she explained, stuffing her parchments into her bag. "And then I taught them the Girding Potion in our dorm, and now I've got three sets of proof. Parvati and Lavender aren't scared of Snape like Neville is, but they both improved a lot once I actually explained to them <em>why </em>they were adding ingredients in a particular order and showed them the proper technique for cutting their roots."</p>
<p>"That's great!" Harry beamed. "Are you done here now? I'm meeting Neville down in the Great Hall for dinner."</p>
<p>Hermione checked her watch. "Shoot, no, I'm late!" she cried. "I was supposed to meet Ernie ten minutes ago." She started pushing things into her bag more quickly.</p>
<p>"Ernie Macmillan?" Harry asked. Hermione never hung out with Ernie. "Why?"</p>
<p>Hermione smiled at him as she stood. "For the <em>plan</em>," she replied. "He's helping me with the plan."</p>
<p>"I can help you with the plan," Harry blurted. She was always helping <em>him</em>—he could help her for once. And he seemed to be the only person at Hogwarts she <em>hadn't</em> asked to help.</p>
<p>Hermione laughed. "You're not a Hufflepuff," she grinned, before seeming to realize Harry was sitting there. She straightened, frowning slightly, and the officious Hermione who was only focused on Harry's training was back. "Besides, you're supposed to be working on the other plan—why aren't you with Moody?"</p>
<p>"We've been working the past three hours," Harry pointed out. "We got loads done and Moody thought we were at a good stopping point. And what does being a Hufflepuff have to do with anything?"</p>
<p>"Well, we need more proof, don't we?" Hermione said, glancing at her watch again and grimacing. "The Hufflepuffs are making potions, too. I've really got to go. You go get something to eat—I'll see you later!"</p>
<p>And like a whirlwind, she was gone.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Probably the biggest test of Harry's resolve to take his training more seriously came the following Saturday. Ravenclaw and Slytherin had decided they couldn't be outdone by Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and so they'd decided to hold their own rogue quidditch match. Whether or not to go was the topic of conversation after breakfast between Harry, Ron and Hermione.</p>
<p>"Come on, Harry," Ron wheedled as they sat in chairs in the common room. "You can take a couple of hours off from training. You deserve a break."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at Ron disapprovingly. "We've got a schedule. And it's just a quidditch match, Ron," she said.</p>
<p>Ron looked at her aghast, clearly over being overly polite now that quidditch was involved. "<em>Just</em> quidditch?"</p>
<p>"Well, it's not like it's a Gryffindor match," Hermione pointed out. "And it's not like there's a Quidditch Cup where the outcome of this match affects us. It'll just be a couple of hours of watching the Slytherins play dirtier than ever since there's not even going to be a real referee."</p>
<p>"You've literally just described why we <em>have</em> to go," Ron insisted. "Besides, Fred and George are going to try out their new fireworks on the Slytherins, and we've got to see it. And Harry's done plenty of preparation—"</p>
<p>"People die in this tournament, Ron," Hermione hissed. "Do you not remember the dragons?"</p>
<p>Ron blanched. "Of course I do," he said, "but Dumbledore won't let that happen—"</p>
<p>"And You-Know-Who?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"He's not going to show up here, not with Dumbledore—"</p>
<p>"Well, one of his followers then?" Hermione snapped. "Do you think Harry's prepared enough to fight another Death Eater?"</p>
<p>"Hermione—"</p>
<p>"You weren't <em>there</em>, Ron," she retorted. "You weren't in that room. You didn't fight Crouch. You don't know what it's like!"</p>
<p>Ron looked like he'd been slapped. Hermione's eyes were flashing and her mouth was twisted into a thin line.</p>
<p>She sighed. "I didn't mean," she started to say, but Ron held his hands up.</p>
<p>"No, I get it," he said stiffly. "I know exactly what you meant."</p>
<p>He was glaring at Hermione defiantly, but the redness in his ears told Harry that it was just a cover—Ron was mad at himself. He hadn't been with them when they'd fought a Death Eater because he'd gotten mad at Harry over nothing. Every other dangerous situation they'd gotten themselves into, Ron had been right by their side, but this was something that he'd never share with them.</p>
<p>Neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to want to be the first to talk, which was absolutely a first for them.</p>
<p>"Look," Harry said, "it's up to me, isn't it?"</p>
<p>Ron and Hermione both looked at him.</p>
<p>"And I think I'm going to skip the game," he said, realizing that he had more interest in learning Confringo than watching Cho Chang and Draco Malfoy fight for the snitch. Of course, he <em>hoped</em> Malfoy lost in a spectacularly embarrassing way.</p>
<p>"Okay, so we'll train then," Ron said.</p>
<p>Hermione was still very quiet and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to be around the two of them when they were magically exploding objects.</p>
<p>"No, you should go to the game," Harry said, trying to give Ron a reassuring smile.</p>
<p>"No—"</p>
<p>"You <em>want</em> to go," Harry pointed out, "and you promised Seamus this morning that you'd save him a seat. You've helped out with training loads of times. Hermione and I can handle it today—honest."</p>
<p>Ron eyed him speculatively. "You're sure?" he asked.</p>
<p>"I'm sure," Harry said. "Besides, it wouldn't be right for you to ditch Seamus."</p>
<p>And so, Ron went to the game, while Harry and Hermione practiced Confringo in Professor McGonagall's classroom.</p>
<p>"Confringo!" Hermione shouted, about an hour into their session, blasting a pillow apart and sending feather fragments everywhere. She was breathing hard and her eyes were flashing.</p>
<p>"You're really mad," Harry said.</p>
<p>"A quidditch match, <em>honestly!" </em>Hermione fumed. "As if this wasn't more important! Even if You-Know-Who's plan fails without Crouch here, it's not like the task will be easy."</p>
<p>"And the thing you said about Crouch?" Harry asked. "And Ron not being there?"</p>
<p>Hermione let out a breath and sat against the edge of Professor McGonagall's desk. "I guess I didn't realize I was mad," she said in a quiet voice. "He apologized for what he said to me and I accepted, but… apparently, I'm still mad about other things."</p>
<p>Harry walked across the room and sat against the desk next to her.</p>
<p>"It's not like I'm mad that he wasn't there," Hermione said quickly, looking anxiously at Harry. "I'm glad he wasn't there. I wish <em>we</em> hadn't been there. But I'm mad at <em>why </em>he wasn't there."</p>
<p>He hadn't believed Harry. And Hermione was still mad about it—and everything that had stemmed from it.</p>
<p>"I guess I just hoped it would be more like last time," Hermione said. "We've all fought before, but moving forward didn't seem this hard."</p>
<p>Harry wished it was easier, too. But Ron didn't know how to act around Hermione. And when it came to Neville, he'd get these flashes of jealousy any time they mentioned their time at Neville's or their last Hogsmeade trip, or anything that reminded Ron that Neville was one of Harry's best friends now. And Neville? His facial expressions ranged from clearly unimpressed to downright savage anytime Ron complained about the jumpers his mum made him or how having a little sister was the worst.</p>
<p>And now, it seems, even Hermione was having trouble forgiving the past. Ron had apologized for what he'd said to her, and she had accepted it, but she was still angry at what Ron had done to Harry. Was there something wrong with him? That both Hermione and Neville seemed to be holding grudges on his account when he didn't feel nearly as angry?</p>
<p>He looked over at Hermione. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were glittering. He didn't know what to say, so he snaked his left arm around her shoulders and settled his hand on her left arm in what he hoped was a comforting way. Hermione stiffened at first, and then she leaned into him, resting her head against him.</p>
<p>And as he held her, it hit him <em>why</em> he wasn't so angry. In the months Ron was gone, he'd gotten closer to Hermione than ever <em>and</em> Neville had become one of his best friends—someone Harry could tell anything to. He couldn't imagine his life any differently, and yet, a part of him was certain that if he and Ron had never gotten in that fight—or if Ron had apologized much earlier—Harry wouldn't have what he had now. And he wouldn't give up his closeness with Hermione and Neville for anything.</p>
<p>He wondered if telling Hermione that would help her gain some clarity on the situation. If she'd be able to view her friendship with Ron the way Harry was: not as close as before, but a friendship nonetheless.</p>
<p>Before he could say anything, the door opened behind them.</p>
<p>"I zought ze red-headed boy said zey would be practicing," Fleur's clear voice called out. "Zis does not look like practicing."</p>
<p>He heard the teasing in her voice, and turned. Fleur, Cedric and Viktor were standing in the doorway.</p>
<p>"I thought you'd be at the game," Harry said, as he and Hermione stood and turned to face them. Cedric's girlfriend had been playing in it; he must have gone.</p>
<p>"We were," Cedric responded. "Cho caught the snitch after about 45 minutes. Good thing, too. The Slytherins were getting nasty."</p>
<p>"I've seen vorse," Viktor commented.</p>
<p>"Yes," Fleur sniffed, "well I still don't really see ze point. I've never liked broomsticks all zat much. And then all of ze players fly around, trying to score points, and ze game is won by ze seeker, and none of those points matter at all."</p>
<p>Cedric and Viktor looked as dumbfounded as Harry felt.</p>
<p>"Well that's just—"</p>
<p>"You see—"</p>
<p>"It just wasn't very exciting," Fleur proclaimed, and all three boys dropped their jaws.</p>
<p>Hermione grinned impishly. "It's a lot more fun when you're invested," she told Fleur. "When you've got someone to root for."</p>
<p>She smiled at Harry and he felt his face get as red as hers.</p>
<p>He cleared his throat and then said, "Well, I hope you all were rooting for Ravenclaw."</p>
<p>"Obviously," Cedric grinned.</p>
<p>"Yes," Viktor said, frowning. "That Drano boy never stops badgering me with questions."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione exchanged a snicker at Viktor not even knowing Draco's name—Harry could just imagine Malfoy's face if he heard that—and then he asked Cedric, "Shouldn't you be celebrating with Cho?"</p>
<p>"Nah," Cedric replied, an easy smile on his face. "This was a Ravenclaw win. She should be with the Ravenclaws."</p>
<p>"So, what are you all doing here?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Cedric, Viktor and Fleur exchanged glances.</p>
<p>"We were talking at the match," Cedric said, "about You-Know-Who."</p>
<p>"Ve all agreed that Crouch put your name in the goblet of fire for nefarious reasons," Viktor added. "So none of us should be thinking of it as a competition at this point."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"He means we have to be ready for anything in ze third task," Fleur said. "So we agreed we should all train together."</p>
<p>Harry looked at them all in surprise. "Really?" he said. The last time they had talked, Viktor and Cedric had seemed to believe him, but Fleur hadn't been completely on board.</p>
<p>"Won't Karkaroff and Madame Maxime get mad?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>Viktor's face turned dark. "Karkaroff has been in his own vorld for months," he said. "And I don't really care vot he thinks anyway."</p>
<p>"I was a bit skeptical at first," Fleur admitted, "but Madame Maxime has been speaking with your Hagrid. I'm not sure what he told her, but she seems to agree zat zere is something wrong here."</p>
<p>Harry grinned—Hagrid's tendency to tell everyone exactly what he knew had worked in their favor.</p>
<p>He looked at Hermione, and her eyes were shining. He could see exactly what she was thinking: Cedric, Viktor and Fleur knew more advanced magic than she, Neville or Ron did. Between dueling them and Moody's help, training was going better than even she'd planned.</p>
<p>"Unless you don't vant to train vith us?" Viktor said uncertainly, studying Harry.</p>
<p>"I do," Harry replied quickly. "That sounds great, honest."</p>
<p>Fleur moved into the room and picked up one of the feathers from Hermione's exploded pillow. "What are we working on?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Confringo," Hermione replied.</p>
<p>Fleur grinned. "Zat's one of my favorites!" she said.</p>
<p>Cedric and Viktor started magically moving more desks out of the way to make room for all of them, and Harry couldn't help but feel hopeful. He'd gone from no one believing in him but Hermione at the start of this tournament to more help than he'd ever had before.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0021"><h2>21. Chapter 21</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Frazzled.</p>
<p>That was the best way to describe Hermione Granger in the month of May. First, there was the ever-approaching third task. The closer it got, the more frightened she felt for Harry, and she found herself repeating her old refrain: <em>Quirrell, basilisk, dementors. </em>Only now, she added on <em>dragons.</em></p>
<p>Granted, they were in a better place than she thought they'd be. Professor Moody had been invaluable in instructing Harry on more destructive methods of dealing with You-Know-Who and his Death Eaters. She was also grateful to the other champions.</p>
<p>It wasn't just the fact that they all trained together now; mealtimes were completely consumed with hypotheticals. They all agreed that Hermione's obstacle course theory was a good one, so at breakfast Harry and Viktor would debate the best ways to neutralize a graphorn, and at lunch he and Fleur would discuss methods of ending a weather spell or moving through an obstacle in complete darkness.</p>
<p>Still, Hermione couldn't help but fret. The hypotheticals they debated reminded her they weren't sure <em>what</em> they were up against, and Moody's lessons reminded her that they knew it likely involved You-Know-Who.</p>
<p>She hated going to those lessons. It wasn't so much that Harry was learning dark spells—she knew he'd never use them unless he had no choice—but every time Moody waxed on about getting inside the head of a Death Eater, as much as she wanted Harry to be prepared for that—"Save Harry" was still the most important part of her plan—she didn't <em>like</em> thinking about the things he'd be forced to face. She didn't like thinking about him in danger at all.</p>
<p>And then there was the other problem.</p>
<p>She'd thought "Save Harry, Snog Harry" would be easy. She'd thought she could shove back her feelings until after the tournament and then deal with it later. But Harry was so insufferably wonderful that her stomach was in a near-constant state of turmoil as those blasted butterflies had apparently set up a colony. Honestly, she couldn't even call them butterflies at this point; they were more like pixies.</p>
<p>She was keenly aware of every time he looked at her, she blushed magenta every time he called her brilliant, and even casual touches—everything from tapping her arm to get her attention in class to putting his arm around her shoulders to comfort her—sent electricity all throughout her body.</p>
<p>It was all decidedly inconvenient is what it was, and she could barely concentrate on anything when he was around. She'd had crushes before—but her crush on Lockhart had been based on a fantasy, and Harry was very much a reality—and so this <em>felt</em> different. When she was around him, she ceded complete control of her feelings and actions to those infernal pixies, and lack of control was something she definitely did <em>not</em> like.</p>
<p>So she stuck to the library as often as she could—the plan to get Snape out of their lives was good for that—but then Harry went and followed her there, offering his help because he was good and kind and sweet, and had the most sincere expression on his face, and just a bit of a pout, and honestly, what was she supposed to do with <em>that</em>? He was altogether distracting and the most vexing part was, she had no clue how to control her reactions.</p>
<p>But she had to. The library and meetings with the Hufflepuffs had offered her a reprieve, but she couldn't exactly say, "Sorry, Harry, I can't eat meals with you or sit next to you in class or study with you or do any of the things we've done together for four years because you've gone and made yourself ridiculously fanciable."</p>
<p>She couldn't afford for anything to distract him from the third task.</p>
<p>"What do you think Hermione?" Neville asked, and Hermione jolted from her reverie, and forced her mind back to the conversation at hand—whatever it was.</p>
<p>"What?" Hermione asked. She had been sitting in the common room after a morning training session with the other champions, and she had a vague recollection of Neville and Ron joining her at some point.</p>
<p>Neville looked at her quizzically. "I just said that Harry got a note from Hagrid asking us to come around," Neville said. "When we were up in the dorm. We're just waiting for him to change, and then we were going to head down there. Are you coming?"</p>
<p>Hermione glanced between Neville, who was as friendly as ever, and Ron, who had adopted his best civil expression, and sighed inwardly. She really didn't feel like spending time in Hagrid's cramped little house with a half-giant who took up more than the usual amount of space; Neville; the boy who had only spoken to her in clipped, formal tones since their fight about the quidditch match; and the boy who made her blush just by smiling at her—who knew what the pixies would do—but she didn't want to disappoint Hagrid.</p>
<p>"Of course I'll go," she said evenly, and Neville smiled. Ron's face remained neutral.</p>
<p>Hermione <em>wasn't</em> going to apologize to him for what she'd said—it had all been true. Nor did she really expect him to apologize—he already <em>had</em> apologized to Harry for abandoning him, and intellectually, she did understand that Ron couldn't have known what was going to happen to them with Crouch. But that didn't stop her from feeling angry nonetheless.</p>
<p>Harry had received a letter back from Professor Lupin—Harry had written him about Ron—and Lupin had said that if everyone involved was trying their best to make amends, sometimes the only thing that could repair a friendship was time.</p>
<p>So that's what Hermione had decided to try. Maybe time could diminish her anger. At the very least, she preferred her awkward, overly polite relationship with Ron better than the constant bickering one they used to have.</p>
<p>"Ready?"</p>
<p>Hermione's pixies did their now-familiar dance at the sound of Harry's voice, and she turned her head to see him descending the staircase. She took a deep breath. Just be <em>normal</em>, she chastised herself. He's still just your best friend.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Only she should've known better. In fact, she <em>had </em>known better.</p>
<p>When they arrived at Hagrid's, they all sat down to tea, and while Hagrid did have quite a large table, he was also a half-giant and took up half the space. So she and the boys were all crammed in together—who knew four would take up so much more room than three?—and Hermione found herself wedged up against Harry, something that made her nerves go off like a sneakoscope.</p>
<p>It was a cool day—and Hagrid had left the window open, welcoming a breeze—but still, Hermione felt it was stifling in the little room.</p>
<p>"Thanks, Hagrid," Neville said, as Hagrid poured them tea, and they all eyed his rock cakes suspiciously, leaving them untouched.</p>
<p>Hermione reached to grab the sugar, her other hand on her teacup, and her fingers brushed with Harry's. The resulting jolt splashed half her tea out of her cup.</p>
<p>She closed her eyes in annoyance. She <em>had</em> to get it together.</p>
<p>When she opened them, Harry was eyeing her curiously. "You all right?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Of course," she replied as confidently as she could, pasting a bright smile on her face, trying to seem as normal as possible.</p>
<p>"How're things goin' with the task?" Hagrid asked, and Hermione felt relief at the change in subject. "I know yeh've bin training."</p>
<p>"Good," Harry replied. "Thanks for that, by the way. Fleur said you're the one who changed Madame Maxime's mind about what was really going on."</p>
<p>"I don't know what yeh're talkin' 'bout," Hagrid said, but his chest puffed up and a silly sort of grin came over him. "But I'm glad yeh've got some more help."</p>
<p>"Some help," Ron grumbled. "Fleur's a bit of a lunatic, isn't she?"</p>
<p>Ron and Neville had spent a good part of the morning dueling Fleur, and Ron had come out the worse for it. Part-veela or not, he seemed to have gone off her a bit.</p>
<p>"You're just mad she tossed you about the classroom like a ragdoll," Harry grinned.</p>
<p>"She's supposed to be helping you," Ron pointed out grumpily. "What could you have possibly learned from that?"</p>
<p>"I learned not to be on the other end of Fleur's banishing charm," Harry answered wryly, a bit of mischief in his grin.</p>
<p>"So glad I could be of service," Ron snorted. "Can't imagine you couldn't have worked that one out on your own."</p>
<p>Ron and Harry looked at each other and snickered.</p>
<p>Hermione glanced at Neville in commiseration at talk of banishing charms. While he'd improved greatly with his new wand, he still hadn't done a proper banishing charm, and even Fleur's instruction hadn't helped much. She could tell how much it had frustrated him this morning.</p>
<p>"So is that what yeh've been doin'?" Hagrid asked. "Mostly dueling?"</p>
<p>"We've also been working through strategies," Hermione answered him. "What to do if you have to come up against a blast-ended skrewt, for instance."</p>
<p>Hagrid nearly choked on his tea and coughed loudly. "What?" he asked rather loudly.</p>
<p>Hermione glanced at Harry, her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and saw he was thinking the same thing—Hagrid knew something.</p>
<p>"A skrewt yeh say?" Hagrid asked, his face turning red as he bit into a rock cake.</p>
<p>Yes, he definitely knew something.</p>
<p>"Hagrid?" Harry asked, as Hagrid chewed slowly. "Something you want to tell us?"</p>
<p>They waited in silence as Hagrid finished chewing and took a sip of his tea.</p>
<p>"Well," he said, his eyes darting around, "I suppose there's no harm in tellin' yeh. I can't tell yeh what the task <em>will</em> be, mind yeh, but I can tell yeh that the skrewt <em>was</em> supposed to be a part of it. But ever since the truth came out about Crouch, Dumbledore has decided that anything he could've messed with has got to come out."</p>
<p>"So, he's not using the skrewt in case Crouch put some kind of curse or enchantment on it?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>Hagrid nodded. "Rubbish, really," he said. "My skrewt wouldn't harm a bowtruckle—but better fer Dumbledore to be safe than sorry. Especially when it comes ter yeh, Harry."</p>
<p>"Thanks, Hagrid," Harry said, as Neville and Hermione exchanged an incredulous look. Wouldn't hurt a bowtruckle? The only reason there was just one skrewt left was because the others had killed each other.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head in disbelief.</p>
<p>"Is there anything else you can tell us about the task?" Ron asked eagerly.</p>
<p>Hagrid shook his head. "Not really," he said. "It was all worked out last fall, but Dumbledore's bin changin' things on account of what happened. Even if I told yeh what I knew, it might not be right."</p>
<p>He took another bite of his rock cake.</p>
<p>"It's caused all sorts of trouble, too," he added.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. "What do you mean?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Well," Hagrid said, "Fudge is off his rocker. He's spent the past decade writin' Dumbledore for advice about everything from who ter promote ter department heads to what type of food ter serve at dinners with the Bulgarian minister, but now he's trying ter freeze Dumbledore out."</p>
<p>"Why?" Neville asked. "Because Dumbledore's changing the tournament?"</p>
<p>"Dumbledore wanted to cancel it altogether," Harry said. "So did Karkaroff."</p>
<p>Hagrid nodded. "That's right," he said. "Fudge—idiot that he is—has got it in his head that Dumbledore is aiming for his job… as if Dumbledore would ever want it. But between what that Skeeter woman wrote about Crouch Sr. and this whole Sirius Black issue, Fudge thinks Dumbledore is out to get him."</p>
<p>Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville all exchanged looks.</p>
<p>"You know about Sirius?" Harry asked, surprise evident on his face.</p>
<p>Hermione was about to remind him to use the codename—Snuffles—but then thought better of it. They were alone, and the codename really only worked when they were talking about Sirius' current whereabouts. Anyone would be able to figure out exactly who Snuffles was from context clues if they used it when talking about his case, and it would ruin the codename for when they <em>really</em> needed it.</p>
<p>"Of course," Hagrid replied. "Amelia Bones is being real thorough in her investigation. She's interviewed everyone who was walking around the grounds the night Beaky escaped. Couldn't be much help, I'm afraid. After Beaky escaped, I did a bit of celebratin' and don't remember much."</p>
<p>Amelia Bones had come up to Hogwarts the week before with a magizoologist to inspect Crookshanks, but other than that, they hadn't heard a thing about Sirius' case at all.</p>
<p>Harry let out a frustrated sigh. "I just don't understand what's taking so long," he said, irritation etched on his face. "It's been a month since we testified."</p>
<p>"Things <em>are</em> happening, Harry," Hermione said. "They've interviewed Hagrid and they came to inspect Crookshanks, didn't they? They were taking us seriously when we said Pettigrew was an animagus."</p>
<p>Ron nodded. "Besides," he said, "Dad said Fudge would try to block this. It'll just take a bit of time."</p>
<p>Hagrid snorted. "Of course he will," he declared. "He sees it as another way Dumbledore's trying to oust him. Dumbledore's been working closely with Bones, yeh see."</p>
<p>"And didn't you see the <em>Daily Prophet </em>this morning?" Neville added. Skeeter had written another article about Crouch Sr. and where he'd disappeared to.</p>
<p>"How's it going to look when it gets out that the Death Eater who attacked you was working with Peter Pettigrew—and that Death Eater's father was the one who sent Sirius to prison for Pettigrew's crimes without a trial?" he asked.</p>
<p>"It'll be a nightmare for Fudge," Ron said, in a rare moment of agreement between him and Neville.</p>
<p>Harry nodded his head in understanding, but his eyes still looked tormented.</p>
<p>"It'll be all right, Harry," Hermione swore. "The truth about Sirius and Pettigrew will come out. It has to."</p>
<p>Harry studied her, his eyes intent, and she pushed aside all of those inconvenient feelings he was stirring as much as she could to meet his gaze. He didn't need some silly little crush right now; he needed his best friend. He smiled at her, his shoulders relaxing, and she felt relief.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When they left Hagrid's an hour later, they were all in pensive moods.</p>
<p>They walked in silence, but finally, as they were passing the Whomping Willow, Neville said what Hermione had been thinking: "Do you think Dumbledore's changed the task so much that it's no longer an obstacle course?"</p>
<p>Neville's worried expression matched her own and she bit her lip.</p>
<p>"I don't know," she said. "But it would take a lot of work to change the task so much so close to the event. And if he changes all of the obstacles, then there's not much Crouch could've done, right?"</p>
<p>"At least we know Harry doesn't have to go up against the skrewt," Ron commented.</p>
<p>"I almost wish I was," Harry said. At the surprised looks from his friends, he added, "Well, at least I've dealt with them loads before. I'd know what to do."</p>
<p>"Anyway," Harry added, looking toward the Whomping Willow, "I'm going to head up to the owlery. I owe Remus a letter."</p>
<p>Hermione could tell he wanted to be alone right now, probably to think through everything about Sirius, and so didn't offer to go with him. Neville, Ron and Hermione looked at each other as Harry headed up to the castle.</p>
<p>"Er, Seamus and Dean are down by the lake. I was going to meet them—you can come if you want," Ron said uncertainly, though Hermione wasn't sure if his uncertainty was because he didn't really want them to come or because he wasn't sure they'd want to.</p>
<p>Hermione appreciated the effort, but, unlike Harry, the last thing she wanted right now was time alone with her thoughts. She needed a distraction better than Seamus and Dean—she needed schoolwork.</p>
<p>"I've got that Charms essay to do," she said. "Thanks though."</p>
<p>Neville decided to work on his essay as well, and they said goodbye to Ron. They walked in silence, but Hermione could feel Neville watching her contemplatively. She shot him a sidelong glance and saw the serious expression on his face.</p>
<p>"What?" she asked.</p>
<p>Neville regarded her. "You've been different lately," he finally said.</p>
<p>Hermione blushed. Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon, and Harry had miraculously not noticed that she'd become a bit mental around him, but <em>of course</em> Neville had noticed. Neville noticed everything when it came to people.</p>
<p>She desperately wanted to confide in someone, and while Neville would be a good choice, she couldn't get past the fact that he was equally hers and Harry's friend. Would it be weird to tell him she fancied Harry and <em>not </em>tell Harry? Didn't boys have some sort of code where they told each other these things? Harry and Ron had never talked about girls they fancied—not to Hermione's knowledge anyway—but seeing as how perceptive Neville was about people, she had a feeling he and Harry <em>would </em>talk about these things.</p>
<p>And there had been another worry bothering her. If something happened between her and Harry—or if it didn't and things got incredibly awkward between then for a while—it wouldn't just affect them. It would affect their friends—Neville most of all. What if she told Neville and he thought it was a bad idea? What if he and Harry <em>had </em>talked, and Harry fancied some other quidditch star—someone like Cho—now? The pixies in her stomach were bothersome, but she preferred them to the disappointment that would bring.</p>
<p>Neville was watching her, clearly expecting some sort of reaction.</p>
<p>"I've just been stressed," she said. "The task and classes and everything. You know."</p>
<p>Neville gave her a look that plainly said he didn't believe her.</p>
<p>He opened the door to the castle and stepped back to let her inside first. As they stepped into the entrance hall, he finally spoke.</p>
<p>"Hermione, I've known you for four years. You're always helping Harry with something dangerous <em>and</em> taking more classes than the rest of us," he said. "I know it's not that."</p>
<p>Hermione opened her mouth and then shut it, realizing she didn't know what to say. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.</p>
<p>Neville held up his hands in surrender. "Look, I'm not going to force it out of you," he said.</p>
<p>He turned to continue walking, and Hermione was glad they were facing forward and he was no longer studying her.</p>
<p>"What I <em>will</em> say," he said, "is if it's what I think it is, then he'd be an idiot to say no."</p>
<p>Hermione felt herself flush all over, but she was pleased nonetheless.</p>
<p>Neville turned to look at her, and she could see the teasing smirk on his face. "But—well—while I don't think he's an idiot, he <em>can</em> be a bit daft when it comes to girls, so unless something drastic changes, you might have to make the first move," he added.</p>
<p>Hermione laughed lightly at his observation, and then nodded her head.</p>
<p>"Not until after the third task," she said softly. "It's too important."</p>
<p>She turned to look at Neville, saw his grin turn serious at her words, and he nodded. Her worry for Harry reflected in his eyes, but he tried to reassure her anyway.</p>
<p>"He'll be fine, Hermione," he said with conviction. "He always is."</p>
<hr/>
<p>With everything so uncertain, Friday morning brought news Hermione had been fervently hoping for.</p>
<p>"Oi, Neville," Seamus called out at the breakfast table, "looks like your Gran sent you something."</p>
<p>And sure enough, among the flock of birds swooping into the Great Hall was Hilda, the Longbottom family's barn owl—she had been named after a great aunt of Neville's grandfather whom Augusta didn't particularly like, and after meeting her portrait in the gallery, Hermione had been inclined to agree.</p>
<p>But instead of going to Neville, Hilda glided down to Hermione and offered her leg.</p>
<p>"I think your owl's a bit confused," Dean laughed.</p>
<p>Neville peered down at the letter. "No," he said, "It's addressed to Hermione."</p>
<p>All of her classmates stared at her.</p>
<p>"You're pen pals with that old crone?" Seamus asked, a look of shock on his face. Then, realizing Neville was there, he added, "No offense."</p>
<p>"How could he possibly be offended by <em>that</em>?" Parvati commented reproachfully.</p>
<p>"It was very good of her to host us, and we've written a few times," Hermione murmured, ripping open the letter and scanning the first few lines. Excitement burst through her at what she read, and she grinned broadly.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Harry asked, tapping her arm for attention, and so good was the news, she barely noticed the pixies in her stomach.</p>
<p>"It's brilliant," Hermione said, looking around at her friends. She looked down at her watch and saw she had just enough time before breakfast ended, and then up at the head table—neither Professor McGonagall nor Professor Dumbledore were there. "I'll tell you all later!"</p>
<p>She dashed out of the Great Hall without another word, and ran up to Gryffindor Tower to retrieve her box of Potions vials. She paused at the top of the staircase of the seventh floor, unsure whose office she should try first, when, to her relief, she saw Professor McGonagall ascending the stairs.</p>
<p>"Miss Granger," she greeted her, as she made it to the landing.</p>
<p>"Hello, Professor," Hermione replied. "I was actually hoping to speak with you and Professor Dumbledore. It's quite important."</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall gave her and her box a curious glance, but didn't say anything as she gestured for Hermione to follow her to the statue of the gargoyle behind which Dumbledore's office was located.</p>
<p>When they ascended the spiral staircase and entered Professor Dumbledore's office, he too seemed surprised to see her.</p>
<p>"Ah, Minerva," he said. "I see you've brought a visitor."</p>
<p>"Miss Granger says she has an urgent matter to discuss with us," Professor McGonagall replied, and Dumbledore gestured for them to all take seats.</p>
<p>"Very well," Dumbledore said. "What brings you here?"</p>
<p>Hermione took a seat, smoothed out her school robes, and looked Professor Dumbledore in the eye. "I'm here to talk to you about Professor Snape," she said.</p>
<p>Neither Professor Dumbledore nor Professor McGonagall seemed shocked.</p>
<p>"I assume this is a continuation of our talk at the Ministry of Magic?" Professor Dumbledore asked.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "Actually, no," she said. "To be quite honest with you sir, I don't think there's anything you could say that would make me feel better about having a man who joined a group determined to kill muggleborns like me teaching in our school."</p>
<p>"Well, I always appreciate honesty," Dumbledore replied, considering her. "Though you've always struck me as a rational person, Miss Granger. Do you not believe people are capable of change?"</p>
<p>He didn't sound accusatory, but curious.</p>
<p>"<em>Has</em> he changed?" Hermione asked. "The students he seems to dislike the most are me—a muggleborn—and the two boys whose parents were in the Order of the Phoenix."</p>
<p>"I understand Professor Snape is strict," Professor McGonagall interjected, "but—"</p>
<p>"No, <em>you're</em> strict Professor," Hermione corrected, hardly believing that she'd interrupted a teacher. Professor McGonagall looked shocked too. "But you never call us names or insult us—what Professor Snape does is <em>bully</em> us. And the worst of it is, he's not even a good teacher."</p>
<p>"Professor Snape is more knowledgeable about potions than almost any witch or wizard I've ever met," Professor Dumbledore contended.</p>
<p>Hermione tilted her head. "But just because someone is good at something doesn't mean they're a good teacher, does it?" she asked, and Dumbledore eyed her shrewdly. "We don't learn safety precautions in his class. We don't learn theories. We don't learn why a potion is made up of its ingredients or how those ingredients interact with each other. If a student makes an error, there are very few of us who understand the potions well enough to counterbalance what went wrong. All he does is write the textbook instructions on the board—so if you accidentally deviate from those instructions, you have no hope of saving your potion."</p>
<p>"Some teachers believe in tactile learning," Professor Dumbledore suggested.</p>
<p>"Well, what good is that if, when you mess up, the teacher threatens to feed your poisoned potion to your pet toad instead of explaining how and why you went wrong?" Hermione asked. "His response to a poorly done potion shouldn't be to call a student an idiot or daft."</p>
<p>Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall exchanged a look that she couldn't decipher.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head lightly and opened the box with the potions. And then she explained what was there to them—how different Neville's work was when Snape wasn't breathing down his neck, and how she had helped teach the other Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs the theory behind the potion, and how much better their work had been.</p>
<p>Professor Dumbledore surveyed the potions and then looked at Hermione.</p>
<p>"Someone could argue that the students intentionally did poorly on the potions they did in class to make Professor Snape look incompetent," he contended, though he didn't seem like he believed that.</p>
<p>"Yes," Hermione agreed, nodding her head. "But do <em>you</em> really think that of me?"</p>
<p>"Oh, of course not, Miss Granger," he said, smiling amiably. "I know that if you were to make up a lie about a professor, you'd come up with something quite devious. I was merely pointing out how difficult it would be to prove anything with this evidence."</p>
<p>Hermione wasn't sure what to think of <em>that</em> assessment of her character, but Professor McGonagall gave Professor Dumbledore a sharp look.</p>
<p>"Your integrity isn't in question, Miss Granger," she said. "I wouldn't have lobbied for you to get a time-turner if I didn't believe your use of it would be unimpeachable."</p>
<p>Dumbledore's eyes twinkled at that—sure, she'd broken the law with her time-turner, but she'd done so on Professor Dumbledore's orders.</p>
<p>"So then you both believe me about Snape being a lousy teacher," she clarified. "But you won't do anything about it?"</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall's mouth was set in a thin line. "I do not speak ill of my colleagues," she said, "as a general rule."</p>
<p>She'd said that once before about Professor Trelawney, and yet everyone knew how McGonagall felt about her.</p>
<p>"There are many reasons why Professor Snape is here at the school," Professor Dumbledore said kindly. "But alas, I cannot reveal them."</p>
<p>Hermione felt furious. "That's right," she said, her voice clipped and frosty. "You never can tell anyone why you make the decisions you do. We don't get to know why there's a Death Eater—"</p>
<p>"<em>Former</em> Death Eater," Dumbledore corrected.</p>
<p>"—in the school, Harry doesn't get to know why he has to go back to that awful place every summer," she continued, ignoring him. "You know how despicable they are."</p>
<p>Neither Professor Dumbledore's nor Professor McGonagall's faces betrayed any emotion.</p>
<p>She turned to Professor McGonagall.</p>
<p>"Did you know they starved him?" she asked. "That they put bars on his windows and wouldn't let him out of his room?"</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall's eyes widened at that. So she didn't know. So Dumbledore wasn't the sort to share every secret, even with her—Hermione wasn't surprised.</p>
<p>Dumbledore sighed. "There are reasons—reasons I cannot share with you—why Mr. Potter must live there," he said, looking much older.</p>
<p>"Perhaps," Hermione said, her voice shakier than she'd like, "but perhaps it would've been better to share those reasons with Harry. Might've made living there a bit more bearable if he knew <em>why</em> he was there, don't you think?"</p>
<p>Dumbledore's expression was unreadable, but he didn't look angry.</p>
<p>Hermione steeled herself and then got back to the topic at hand.</p>
<p>"I honestly don't expect either of you to do anything with these potions," Hermione said. "You see, you're not the only ones I've given them to. I worried that even if you two believed me, that wouldn't change anything. And if <em>I </em>took it to the Board of Governors, they'd probably think exactly what you just proposed—that we're a bunch of disgruntled students."</p>
<p>Hermione sat up straighter. "But you know who would believe these potions?" she asked. "Our families—people who already know and trust <em>us</em>. And while my family may not have pull in the wizarding world, lots of others do. When Augusta Longbottom received exact copies of these potions, she contacted as many of her old acquaintances as she could. Like Susan Bones' parents. Her Aunt Amelia is already not a fan of Professor Snape. And Hannah Abbott's parents—they've donated more to St. Mungo's than just about anyone than the Malfoys, and I understand they're quite influential. And Ernie Macmillan's grandfather—he's <em>on</em> the Board of Governors, as you know."</p>
<p>"I'm aware," Professor Dumbledore said.</p>
<p>"Ernie Macmillan's grandfather is opening an inquiry," Hermione announced. "I've just received the letter from Mrs. Longbottom this morning. Ernie's grandfather informed her before he put in the paperwork, but I assume you'll be hearing from them soon."</p>
<p>She reached into her bag and pulled out some parchment and handed it to Professor McGonagall. "I've also given Mrs. Longbottom this," she said.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall adjusted her glasses and began to read. It was a list of every NEWT-level Potions student and their house going back 100 years. Hermione had spent hours poring over the records, which were housed in a dusty, forgotten section of the library in books that only denoted the year.</p>
<p>"I actually got the idea from you," Hermione admitted, looking at Professor McGonagall. "I heard that you had gone digging through old OWL tests to find James Potter's answers on animagus forms."</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall looked at her sharply. "Those records are sealed," she said.</p>
<p>"The tests are, yes," Hermione agreed. "But the class lists are located in the library—though I don't think anyone has been in that section in ages."</p>
<p>In going through the records, she had discovered that prior to Snape, the NEWT classes typically had an even amount of students from the four houses. Since Snape had become potions master, the class had become lopsided, with only two or three Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors combined making the cut.</p>
<p>"Why is it that Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs could achieve OWLs and NEWTs prior to Professor Snape, but now they suddenly can't?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"You're not suggesting that Professor Snape fixes the OWL grades of his students?" Professor McGonagall asked incredulously. "Surely you know, Miss Granger, that the staff at Hogwarts has nothing to do with grading OWLs."</p>
<p>"I'm aware," Hermione said evenly. "That's Griselda Marchbanks' job. But while each student got a fair test, if they spent five years with shoddy teaching, that's not going to help them on their OWLs much, is it? Not unless they belong to the house that's known for studying or the only house Professor Snape favors and <em>wants</em> to succeed."</p>
<p>"Professor Snape only accepts students who achieve an O," Professor McGonagall explained. "The previous potions master accepted E students. Any discrepancy in the composition of the classes is likely due to that."</p>
<p>"Honestly, Professor, I thought something like that might be the case," Hermione said, feeling extremely grateful for Augusta Longbottom's friendship. "And that's why Neville's gran asked Professor Marchbanks—they're old friends, you see—to look into it since she <em>does</em> have access to the OWL and NEWT scores of every student."</p>
<p>Hermione had been too preoccupied by testifying for Sirius when they'd visited Professor Marchbanks' office to realize what an opportunity she was, but once she and Mrs. Longbottom had begun conversing about Snape, it had become quite clear how useful Professor Marchbanks could be.</p>
<p>"Do you know what she found?" Hermione asked, and Professor McGonagall's expression alluded to the fact that she had figured out exactly where Hermione was going with this.</p>
<p>"Prior to Professor Snape, there was no difference in the education of the houses—they achieved O's equally," Hermione said.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall looked up at Hermione, her face unreadable.</p>
<p>"I assume Professor Marchbanks also had something to say?" Professor Dumbledore asked mildly.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. "She's lodged a complaint with the Board of Governors, too," she said.</p>
<p>Hermione shifted in her chair, sitting up straighter.</p>
<p>"I didn't come here to plead with you to do something about Professor Snape. I came here, out of respect for you both, to let you know what's been set in motion," she said. "The Board of Governors may not care that Severus Snape was a Death Eater, but Ernie Macmillan's grandfather sure seems to care that missing out on a Potions NEWT could set Ernie's career prospects back."</p>
<p>She tried—and failed—to keep the bitterness out of her voice.</p>
<p>To her surprise, Professor Dumbledore was smiling at her. "Well, you really did it properly, didn't you, Miss Granger?" he said. "Twenty points to Gryffindor for a tenacious job."</p>
<p>Hermione's jaw dropped. Professor McGonagall looked mildly surprised as well.</p>
<p>Dumbledore looked amused. "Well, just because I happen to disagree with you on this particular point, doesn't mean I can't appreciate a job well done," he reasoned.</p>
<p>"Er—right," Hermione said, relieved he wasn't angry with her, but unsettled at how calm he was being. It's like he wasn't worried at all—like he knew nothing would happen to Snape, regardless of anything she'd try.</p>
<p>But while Professor Dumbledore did have a <em>lot</em> of discretion when it came to running Hogwarts, he <em>did </em>have to answer to the Board of Governors.</p>
<p>"I appreciate you letting us know," Professor Dumbledore said, looking at his watch, "but if I'm not mistaken you've got a History of Magic class to attend—though I daresay Professor Binns likely wouldn't notice if you're not there."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded and stood. "Thank you for your time."</p>
<p>She descended the staircase and breathed a sigh of relief—she'd done it. Dumbledore's reaction troubled her, but for now, she'd done the best she could. And if this didn't work, she'd just find something else to try.</p>
<p>She shook her head slightly. Maybe Dumbledore was being overly confident—if she'd learned anything from watching Lucius Malfoy maneuver all these years, purebloods from powerful families could accomplish things in this world. And the purebloods in her corner were quite determined.</p>
<p>She may not like how she had to go about it, but tearing down that particular system was a problem for another day.</p>
<hr/>
<p>When Hermione explained Gran's letter to Harry and Neville on their way to Charms later that day, they were both appropriately excited.</p>
<p>"Blimey!" Neville whispered, clearly shocked. "Gran did all <em>that</em>?"</p>
<p>"Are you really that shocked?" Harry asked. Clearly, he had the same impression of Augusta Longbottom that Hermione did.</p>
<p>"Well, no," Neville admitted. "More proud, I suppose."</p>
<p>Harry looked at Hermione and grinned. "I'm willing to concede that Ernie Macmillan might have been a <em>bit</em> more helpful than me this time around," he said, earning a laugh from Hermione and Neville.</p>
<p>"If Ernie Macmillan's Potions grade is what gets Snape out of our lives, I'll take it," Neville added.</p>
<p>Hermione was still feeling the rush of adrenaline at lunchtime, and for the first time in her life—with the exception of her very first class <em>before</em> she knew what Professor Snape was like—she was actually excited for Double Potions, if only to see his reaction. But while he was his usual unpleasant self, he didn't seem overly disagreeable, so perhaps he didn't know yet. Then again, who could tell with him?</p>
<p>After class, they went back up to their dorms to drop off their things, and she met up with Harry in the common room. Harry collapsed on the sofa next to her, looking exhausted.</p>
<p>She narrowed her eyes at him. "You haven't even had any training yet," she said. "How can you already look like you've been 10 rounds with a skrewt?"</p>
<p>Harry snorted. "We just came from Double Potions with Snape remember?" he said. "I'll take the skrewt any day."</p>
<p>Hermione laughed, but given what he'd said the other day about the third task, she didn't think he was joking. Her plan <em>had</em> to work—something had to be done about Snape.</p>
<p>Harry gave her a sidelong glance. "Are you coming to training today?" he asked. In another 20 minutes, it would be time for Harry and Neville to meet with Moody.</p>
<p>With the Snape plan now firmly in the hands of the Board of Governors, she didn't have very many excuses to avoid Professor Moody's lessons.</p>
<p>"What's on the agenda today?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Removing bones," Harry replied, and Hermione had an image of him in second year, laying on the Quidditch pitch, his arm completely boneless thanks to Professor Lockhart's shoddy spellwork.</p>
<p>She blushed thinking about how she had had that stupid crush on the man. If only she knew then what it felt like when you <em>really</em> fancied someone…</p>
<p>She shook her head to shake away those thoughts.</p>
<p>"Does Moody really expect you to use that in battle?" she asked. When Moody had mentioned dark spells, her mind had gone to some unimaginable places—not spells that Gilderoy Lockhart accidentally used on a second year.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "It won't kill anyone, but it's a bit hard to wave your wand around when you've got no bones," he said, grinning adorably at her, as he flopped his right arm around to demonstrate it for her.</p>
<p>To her horror and astonishment, she didn't just laugh—she <em>giggled</em>. Hermione Granger was not the sort of girl who <em>giggled</em>. She certainly wasn't the sort of person who found black humor <em>funny</em>—and definitely not when that black humor related to Harry Potter learning spells to avoid being <em>killed</em>.</p>
<p>And yet, here she was, turning red and giggling, for no good reason other than the fact that Harry had smiled at her and told a joke, and she liked rewarding his smiles with laughter, because maybe that would mean she'd see more of them—distracting as they were, she preferred a smile to a furrowed brow any day.</p>
<p>"So will you come?" Harry asked, letting his arm flop down, and his hand came to rest on her knee. She froze. Before she could say anything, a shadow passed over them. Hermione looked up to see Angelina and Alicia, hands on their hips, looking down at them with knowing smiles on their faces.</p>
<p>"Sorry, Harry, but Hermione can't practice today," Angelina said, not looking sorry at all as she grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her up off the sofa.</p>
<p>"She's got plans with us," Alicia added, linking her arm through Hermione's. Angelina hooked her arm through Hermione's free one, and Hermione barely got a glance at Harry's confused face as the two sixth years marched her out of the portrait hole.</p>
<p>"Where are we going?" Hermione sputtered.</p>
<p>But they didn't answer her at all, walking her down two flights of steps before they found themselves in front of a painting of four women in Regency-era dresses playing cards and drinking firewhiskey.</p>
<p>"Nogtail," Angelina announced. The portrait opened, revealing a stone circular staircase. They walked up it slowly, Angelina ahead of her and Alicia behind.</p>
<p>"Where are we going?" Hermione asked again, feeling a bit vexed now.</p>
<p>"Sanctuary," Angelina said, though that meant nothing to Hermione.</p>
<p>Angelina reached the top of the stairs and stepped aside to give Hermione a good view. They were in a large circular room with no windows, but the ceiling appeared to be transparent as she could see the sky, with sunlight filtering down and bathing everything—that, or it was enchanted like the Great Hall. There were two fireplaces opposite each other and intricately woven tapestries on every wall. In the center of the room was a tea service, water jugs and platters of biscuits and scones, and the room was littered with brightly colored armchairs and sofas and mismatched tables, each of which had a stack of magazines on them.</p>
<p>Hermione had <em>never</em> seen this room on the map—but then Sirius had told Harry the map only showed rooms he and his friends had known about.</p>
<p>The room was inviting and comfortable and she instantly loved it.</p>
<p>"This is Sanctuary," Angelina declared again, opening her arms out grandly, as Alicia ascended the last step and came to stand on Hermione's other side. "This is where we come when Fred and George stink up the common room with dungbombs."</p>
<p>"There are only three rules here," Alicia added, holding up one finger. "Number one: No boys."</p>
<p>"You cannot bring <em>any</em> boy here," Angelina warned, "or even tell them Sanctuary exists."</p>
<p>As Hermione looked around, she saw Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe, the Patil twins, Sally-Anne Perks and Mandy Brocklehurst—everyone here was a witch.</p>
<p>"Number two," Alicia declared, holding up a second finger, "no babies."</p>
<p>"We don't let anyone under fourth year in," Angelina explained. "So no telling Ginny or Luna about it until next year."</p>
<p>"And number three," Alicia finished, holding up her third finger, "no brattiness."</p>
<p>"Any interhouse fighting stays outside," Angelina elaborated. "Millie's really serious about it. That pug-faced girl your year—the one who always looks like she's smelled something rotten?—she got banned for the rest of the year for starting a row with Hannah Abbott."</p>
<p>"Sanctuary is designed to be just that," Alicia explained, linking her arm through Hermione's once again and pulling her over to a table across the room where Katie Bell was sitting, flipping through a magazine. "Legend has it that this was a prefects study room decades ago—as if <em>they</em> need any more perks—but the head girl at the time got so vexed at the head boy's antics that she changed the password on him, and only told the female prefects what it was. Then they let the rest of the witches know, and ever since then, it's been our space."</p>
<p>"Well, it's brilliant," Hermione admitted, "and thank you for showing me—but why are we here?"</p>
<p>Angelina dropped down onto the blue loveseat next to Katie, while Alicia sat herself and Hermione down on the striped purple sofa across from them.</p>
<p>Angelina crossed her legs and looked at Hermione in disbelief. "You're joking, right?" she asked. "Your eyes were screaming at us for help!"</p>
<p><em>What?</em> Hermione hadn't even known they were<em> there</em>.</p>
<p>Katie sat forward in her seat and cupped her hand in her chin. "Oooh," she asked. "What's going on?"</p>
<p>Alicia leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, "Hermione fancies Harry."</p>
<p>Hermione's face flushed red, but Katie yelped, "You've got a crush on Pocket Potter?"</p>
<p>Hermione looked around in agitation, distressed that someone might have heard—she could only imagine the gossip, especially if Rita Skeeter got wind of this—but to her great relief, everyone seemed involved in their own conversations.</p>
<p>Then she realized what Katie had said. "On <em>who?</em>"</p>
<p>Angelina laughed. "It's just a nickname Alicia came up with when Harry first joined the quidditch team."</p>
<p>"He was just so <em>shy</em> and<em> sweet</em> and <em>earnest</em>, and <em>teeny tiny</em>, and you just wanted to pick him up and put him in your pocket," Alicia explained, mimicking picking up something very small and putting it in her pocket. Her facial expression made it seem like she was talking about a puppy.</p>
<p>Hermione thought Harry would likely die of embarrassment if he knew about the nickname.</p>
<p>"And… you all call him that?" Hermione asked faintly.</p>
<p>Katie snorted. "Of course not," she laughed. "Just us girls. Can you imagine what Fred and George would do if they knew? They'd take the mickey out of him."</p>
<p>Angelina put a hand to her heart. "But now our baby bird is all grown up with his first crush," she said, sounding very much like a mum. "Well, his first <em>real </em>one anyway."</p>
<p>Alicia shook her head distastefully. "Not like those girls who fancy him because he's famous," she muttered.</p>
<p>"I never said—" Hermione started to argue, but then stopped. All three of them already looked unconvinced by whatever she was going to claim, and besides, she had to talk about it with someone, didn't she?</p>
<p>She felt weird talking about it with Neville since he was also Harry's friend, and even though Ginny seemed very happy with Michael Corner, she couldn't possibly imagine confiding in her about Harry, knowing how Ginny used to feel. And while Luna would likely be a very good listener, Hermione felt dubious about how good her advice could be when it came to something like this.</p>
<p>But these three girls were older, and Angelina and Alicia had <em>already </em>given her very good advice when it came to boys earlier this year. With their help, she'd managed to stay friends with Viktor.</p>
<p>"Fine," she relented grudgingly, crossing her arms. "Maybe I fancy him a <em>little.</em>"</p>
<p>Apparently, that was a very funny thing to say because Angelina and Alicia cracked up.</p>
<p>"If your face in the common room is what you look like when you like a boy <em>a little</em>, I do not want to be around when you like a boy a <em>lot</em>," Angelina grinned, and Hermione felt very hot and knew she was turning magenta.</p>
<p>"Oh, Hermione, <em>no</em>, don't be embarrassed," Alicia said comfortingly, putting her arm around her. "It was <em>sweet </em>how you were looking at him. And honestly, I don't think Harry noticed a thing. Boys are daft like that."</p>
<p>Angelina eyed her shrewdly. "Is it that you don't <em>want</em> to like him?"</p>
<p>Hermione played with the edge of her sleeve, suddenly feeling very shy. "No," she admitted. "It's more that I don't like feeling nervous and awkward—like I'm not in control."</p>
<p>Katie's face had turned dreamy. "Oh, but that's half the fun of fancying a boy," she gushed. "The anticipation of it all."</p>
<p>That's what Hermione had thought when Viktor asked her to the ball—that the anticipation of the event would be worth it, even if the ball itself turned out to be a dud—but the anticipation of <em>this</em> felt a lot different than that had.</p>
<p>"Of course, most of them are blind, so the anticipation stage can last forever if you leave it up to them. I had to basically lock Eddie Carmichael in a broom closet before he realized I was interested in him," Katie added, a thoughtful gaze on her face. "Pity he wasn't a better kisser."</p>
<p>Hermione's apprehension must have shown on her face because Katie quickly added, "I'm sure Harry will be brilliant at it though."</p>
<p>But that only terrified her more. Hermione was <em>mostly </em>sure that Harry had never kissed a girl, but she knew with certainty that she'd never kissed anyone.</p>
<p>Angelina peered at her perceptively and then asked gently, "Hermione, have you ever kissed someone?"</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. If she were honest with herself, while the sole reason for the "Save Harry, Snog Harry" plan was to ensure Harry's safety, a part of her was relieved to put off trying to kiss him in case she wasn't any good at it. Kissing wasn't exactly something you could learn from books, was it?</p>
<p>Alicia's face lit up. "Well, <em>this</em> is a problem we can definitely solve," she said. "We've got loads of experience."</p>
<p>"Especially Angelina," Katie added, narrowly dodging the pillow Angelina aimed at her.</p>
<p>But then Angelina grinned unapologetically and added, "It's true. I'm something of an expert on snogging."</p>
<p>Hermione sat up straighter, ready to take mental notes as if this were Transfiguration or Charms or any other class she'd sit an OWL for.</p>
<p>"Right," Alicia said, "so here's what you want to do…"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0022"><h2>22. Chapter 22</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry was more tired then he had ever been in his entire life. He'd thought Wood's quidditch schedules were mental, but now, he just looked back at his younger self and laughed—a few hours flying about the quidditch pitch was nothing compared to the hours he now spent learning Defense against the Dark Arts.</p>
<p>Moody had taught him how to remove bones—Moody had procured a fairly large amount of actual human skeletons to do so, something Harry had decided was best not to question where they came from—and had now moved on to a range of stunning spells that did more than knock out your opponent. Some made the opponent's blood boil, another caused internal bleeding—and all were fatal if not treated in time. One produced a purple light that looked suspiciously like the spell Crouch Jr. had used on Neville.</p>
<p>And when Harry wasn't training with Moody, he was training with his friends. Moody had told him it was a good idea to learn how to cast spells nonverbally—"You need all the advantages you can get in a fight, Potter, and if your opponent doesn't know what's coming, they don't know how to stop it," he'd insisted—and since Fleur was proficient enough to use nonverbal spells casually at the breakfast table, she'd taken to teaching Harry and Cedric (like Harry, Cedric had had a fairly inconsistent education in this particular subject, since Quirrell and Lockhart had been mostly useless).</p>
<p>Harry was starting to get the hang of it. The other day, he'd successfully summoned Hermione's quill nonverbally during History of Magic, which had earned him a look from her that was equal parts exasperation, admiration and joy. It was an unusual combination, but one that was very typical of Hermione, and he'd been rather pleased with himself after.</p>
<p>He still had a lot of work to do though before he was sure he could replicate that in a combat situation—it's one thing to do it in a class so boring everyone but Hermione had at some point succumbed to sleep (and in Seamus' case, it was just about every class) and quite another when you were being attacked by someone trying to kill you.</p>
<p>And if it weren't for that thought—that knowledge that this tournament wasn't a game but some sick part of Voldemort's plan for him—despite the grueling practices, despite the long hours, despite the fact that he was constantly sore and tired, Harry would've felt <em>good.</em></p>
<p>He remembered what it had been like when he'd first gotten onto a broom and realized that this was something he was good at—people weren't staring at him because he had a scar or a famous name or because he was like the snake behind the glass at the zoo, an oddity to be gawked at… they were looking at him because he was competent, possibly even excellent at something. It was proof that he belonged here at Hogwarts. And from the surprised and impressed looks on Viktor, Cedric and Fleur's faces whenever they trained—Neville and Hermione also looked impressed, but never surprised—he supposed this must be something he was pretty good at too.</p>
<p>Had it not been for the looming threat, Harry supposed he would've thoroughly enjoyed his lessons.</p>
<p>But there was the looming threat, and he was increasingly feeling it every moment of the day. Whether he was training or in classes or eating meals or in the quiet moments when he first woke up, certain that he'd had a dream that was upsetting, but which he couldn't quite remember, there was always that tension, that knot in his stomach. It was his constant companion.</p>
<p>He just needed to make it through the task, and then hope like hell Sirius would be free by summer.</p>
<p>On Thursday night, in the last week of May, he made his way downstairs. Professor McGonagall had told him after Transfiguration that all of the champions were to meet with Ludo Bagman on the quidditch pitch at 9 p.m.</p>
<p>As he crossed the entrance hall, he ran into Cedric and they walked outside together. Neither of them said much; they were both feeling the weight of the task, and they'd spent so much time talking and theorizing about the third task, and now it was finally time to find out.</p>
<p>They crossed the dark lawn to the Quidditch stadium, through a gap in the stands, and then Cedric stopped dead in his tracks.</p>
<p>"What have they done to it?" he asked indignantly.</p>
<p>The pitch was gone, and in its place were hedges, twisting and winding in every direction… almost like a maze. Harry felt his heart grow a little lighter, his body tingling with anticipation.</p>
<p>"Hello there!" a cheerful voice called out.</p>
<p>It was Ludo Bagman, standing with Viktor and Fleur.</p>
<p>As Harry and Cedric made their way over, Bagman spread his arms out wide. "Well, what do you think?" he asked happily, chattering on about how well the hedges were growing and how they'd be twenty feet high in a month.</p>
<p>"Now, I can imagine you can guess what we're making here?" he asked.</p>
<p>"A maze," Viktor answered.</p>
<p>Bagman smiled widely, nodding vigorously at Viktor. At the confirmation that Harry's hunch about the hedges had been right—that Hermione had been right about the third task all along—Harry felt the weight lift off him, and he let out a short, involuntary laugh, matching Bagman's grin.</p>
<p>"It's quite straightforward," Bagman said. "The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze and the first to touch it will receive full marks. There will be obstacles, of course—spells and magical creatures and the like.</p>
<p>"The champions will enter the maze in order of their points," he added, grinning widely at Harry, who was currently in first place. "Should be fun, eh?"</p>
<p>The champions nodded politely, but inside, Harry felt relief course through him, followed by glee. He'd never doubted Hermione—he'd never had reason to—but she had been right and now they had the proof.</p>
<p>He was vaguely aware of Bagman suggesting they all head up to the castle, and traipsing out of the maze with the others. Fleur and Viktor broke away to head toward their respective lodgings, leaving Harry with Cedric and Bagman.</p>
<p>But, to be honest, Harry wasn't paying all that much attention. The third task was an obstacle course, and it was the best news he'd gotten in what felt like forever. He'd started this tournament desperately alone, with only Hermione, mostly certain that the tasks might actually kill him.</p>
<p>But she'd been by his side the whole time, coaching him, cajoling him, researching for him. And because of his brilliant, stubborn, fiercely loyal best friend, he didn't just have a month to train for a challenge he was woefully unprepared for—he'd already been preparing for ages.</p>
<p>He had to tell her.</p>
<p>He stood up straighter, shocked it had taken this long for him to come to this conclusion. Of course he had to tell her. She'd toiled for hours in the library for him, meticulously researching every past tournament to figure out what he'd be facing—she had to know now.</p>
<p>Harry grinned and sprinted for the castle, leaving a mildly confused Bagman and Cedric in his wake. His heart was pounding, his arms and legs pushing themselves to the limit as he raced up the stone steps, through the entrance hall and up the stairs.</p>
<p>Hermione had been right, he felt lighter than air and all he knew was it was monumentally important to tell her. He headed for the library—she'd needed some books for a Transfiguration essay and he had no doubt that she'd gotten lost in there.</p>
<p>He skidded to a halt in front of the library doors, banging them open perhaps a bit too loudly in his haste to find his friend, earning a glare from Madam Pince that he readily ignored, and then craned his neck, working his way through the tables and stacks, searching for her.</p>
<p>And then he saw her—his best friend, the person he owed everything to. She was a few desks away, hovering over her parchment, three open books surrounding her on the table. Her bag was resting by her feet, slightly askew, books tumbling out of it. Her warm brown eyes were completely absorbed by whatever she was reading, attentive and intelligent and practically glittering with excitement because there was nothing about learning that didn't appeal to her. Her curls seemed wilder than usual, her fingers were smudged with ink and her robes were slightly rumpled from having been sitting at the table for so long. She was tapping her quill against her lips, like she was trying to solve a puzzle, or figure out the exact right word or phrase to use in her essay.</p>
<p>He felt a rush of affection so strong it nearly knocked him over. He was grateful for her, yes—for her friendship, for everything she'd done for him—but it was more than that. He'd been alone his whole life, but he hadn't been from the second they'd become friends.</p>
<p>He stood there watching her, following the movements of her quill—he had an idle thought that it was from the set he'd bought her for Christmas—as it brushed lightly against her lips, drawing his attention there. He couldn't look away.</p>
<p>He'd thought she looked pretty at the Yule Ball, with her hair done up and her freckles dusting her nose, and he'd thought her beautiful when they entered the secret garden, her face alight with pleasure and enchantment, as every worry she had faded away, but here in this library, with a stack of books and parchment and ink and looking every bit the clever, detail-oriented, tenacious witch he'd known and depended on and needed for years, she was quintessentially Hermione and he was captivated.</p>
<p>And just like that, something shifted inside him. This was Hermione in her purest form, and even though he'd seen her in exactly this position a hundred—ten thousand—times before, it was like he was seeing her for the first time.</p>
<p>She'd sat in that chair poring over books for him because she thought he was worth it. He'd never had someone who believed in him or who stood by him quite like her.</p>
<p>And as he watched her pause her tapping—she bit her bottom lip lightly, her eyes gleaming victoriously as she solved whatever riddle she had been pondering and set out to scribble furiously, tidily, on her parchment—he felt his heart pounding faster and a sudden, undeniable desire coursing through him: He wanted to kiss her.</p>
<p>As if she could somehow sense his presence, Hermione chose that moment to look up, her face scanning the tables around her, until her eyes fell on him. She smiled warmly, a faint pink rising up amongst her freckles as her curious eyes studied him. She stood, moving quickly toward him, her eyes never leaving his, and he felt himself being drawn closer to her.</p>
<p>"Harry?" she asked inquisitively. "What is it? What's wrong?"</p>
<p>"N—nothing," he stuttered after a moment, his voice sounding squeaky and unnatural, though Hermione didn't seem to notice.</p>
<p>He shook his head slightly; he'd come here for a reason. "The exact opposite in fact," he added, clearing his throat, sounding a bit more like himself. "Bagman's just told us the third task. You were right, Hermione—it's a maze!"</p>
<p>Her entire face transformed, her smile radiant, her eyes elated.</p>
<p>"That's amazing!" she cried, launching herself into his arms. He caught her easily—he was quite used to this by now—but the sensations he was feeling were altogether new. Instinctively, he curled his fingers through the ends of her hair, reveling in the softness of her curls.</p>
<p>It was an obvious reality and he didn't know how it had escaped him for so long: He fancied Hermione—and he didn't have a clue what to do about it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry hardly slept at all that night, his thoughts for once not fixated on Voldemort, but instead on Hermione. He wasn't sure how he managed to make it out of that library—they'd walked back to Gryffindor Tower together, and they must have talked about something, but he didn't have a clue what. He was too busy trying to act normal.</p>
<p>Months ago, he'd <em>thought</em> his stomach had done somersaults anytime he caught sight of Cho, but he was absolutely wrong about that. Those were no somersaults; they were barely belly flops. Or maybe that was being too harsh, but what he was feeling now felt more like doing corkscrews at top speed on his firebolt for the first time—nerve-wracking and exhilarating and absolutely the best feeling in the world.</p>
<p>Of course, you also look a bit like an idiot when your face is grinning like you've just been racing your broom when in reality you've just had a slightly brisk walk from the fourth floor with your best friend. Harry was shocked Hermione hadn't thought there was something quite off with him.</p>
<p>He didn't fare much better the next day. The champions all convened for breakfast, and they decided they could come up with some sort of system by which they shot symbols into the sky if they got into trouble (it reminded Harry a bit of the Dark Mark, but he figured as long as the symbol wasn't a skeleton and a snake, it wasn't hurting anyone). Neville theorized that the hedges would be magically fortified so you couldn't blast through them with any simple spells, but the group—Hermione especially—came up with a list of spells that would help them cut through the hedges even if the professors had enhanced them.</p>
<p>But while Harry took part in the discussion, he also spent an inordinate amount of time watching Hermione's hair move around as she gestured excitedly, deciding that her curls were almost like a maze themselves.</p>
<p>Then there'd been History of Magic, where Hermione once again tapped her quill against her lips—how had he never noticed how often she did that?— and Harry once again summoned it nonverbally, feeling a thrill of victory for a multitude of reasons when it flew into his hands. Hermione glared at him, her head tilted as if to say, "Really? <em>Again?" </em>but he could also see the pride in her eyes, and when she snatched it back from him, he felt a spark as their fingers touched, and he figured her momentary ire was worth it.</p>
<p>By Saturday, he realized that he'd hardly thought about Voldemort at all, which was good on the one hand, since thinking about someone wanting to kill you wasn't pleasant, and bad on the other hand, since when someone wants to kill you, it's probably best to stay focused on avoiding that.</p>
<p>He needed help. He needed advice.</p>
<p>He woke Neville early, careful not to wake Ron—even if they were friends again, there was no magic in the universe that could compel Harry to take advice about Hermione from <em>Ron</em>—and dragged Neville to an empty classroom before breakfast.</p>
<p>"What's this all about?" Neville asked sleepily, still looking a bit rumpled as he slouched at a desk.</p>
<p>Harry paced around a bit. "You know things about girls," he said, almost a bit desperately. "You're the one who told me you had to talk to a girl and know her before you fancied her."</p>
<p>Neville sat up a little straighter and looked a bit more alert. "Been getting to know a girl then, have you?" he asked. "Anyone in particular?"</p>
<p>Neville was grinning widely, a mirthful look in his eyes.</p>
<p>"You know," Harry said. It was a statement as much as a question.</p>
<p>Neville laughed. "I only fancied the girl for years, Harry," he said. "I think I know what it looks like on someone."</p>
<p>Harry's stomach dropped and he looked at Neville uncomfortably. "But you—"</p>
<p>Neville shook his head. "I told you months ago I didn't see her that way anymore," he swore, "and I wouldn't lie about that."</p>
<p>Harry felt lighter—he wasn't sure what he was going to do, but if Neville fancied her too that would make things all the more complicated.</p>
<p>"I'm just glad <em>you</em> finally figured it out," Neville said incredulously, shaking his head.</p>
<p>Harry felt a bit irritated. "Well, you could've said something," he muttered.</p>
<p>Neville eyed him skeptically. "Oh, and how would that have worked out?" he asked, launching into an easy smile. "You're a bit stubborn in case you haven't noticed. It's something you had to figure out for yourself."</p>
<p>Harry supposed he <em>had</em> been stubborn. Sirius had asked him ages ago why Hermione was so important, and he'd steadfastly refused to think about the answer, like he had some sort of mental block on it.</p>
<p>Harry dropped down in the empty desk across from Neville.</p>
<p>"So," Neville asked, "what are you going to do now?"</p>
<p>What was he going to do about it? He liked her, and he liked this feeling<em>, </em>but he'd never wanted things to change.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Harry said glumly. "I don't even know if she'd feel the same."</p>
<p>Neville looked at him like he was a hopeless idiot. "I really don't think <em>that's</em> going to be a problem," he said.</p>
<p>Maybe, Harry thought, but it was more than that. Up until three years ago, he hadn't even had friends, and he was still learning how to do <em>that</em>. He knew next to nothing about being in a relationship with someone and he was absolutely certain that he'd mess it all up if he tried. And he <em>couldn't</em> mess up his friendship with Hermione; it was too important.</p>
<p>"But… I'd be rubbish at it," Harry blurted out. "I haven't got the first clue about girls."</p>
<p>"You seem to do all right understanding Hermione specifically," Neville reasoned.</p>
<p>"And if I mess it all up?" Harry asked, staring intently down at his hands, carefully avoiding Neville's gaze. "And then she doesn't even want to be friends anymore? I don't want anything to change."</p>
<p>He was being stubborn again, he knew, and probably a bit fatalistic—definitely a bit dramatic—but Harry'd learned very early on to expect the worst.</p>
<p>Neville seemed to ponder what he said, thinking hard. "Well, on the first point, I'm not sure Hermione knows how to <em>not</em> be your friend," he countered. "And as for things changing—hasn't it already? I mean, is the friendship you have now the same as it was a year ago? Or even six months ago?"</p>
<p>Well, no. He and Hermione had been sitting in a classroom not unlike this one just a few weeks ago when he'd realized that Ron's abandonment <em>had</em> changed things for the better—he was closer to both Neville and Hermione. And wasn't he the one who'd been okay—happy and grateful, even—that his friendship with her had changed that much?</p>
<p>"I suppose it has changed," Harry agreed.</p>
<p>"And you want to kiss her, right?" Neville asked, taking Harry by surprise.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"When you see her, do you think about kissing her?" Neville asked again.</p>
<p>Harry knew his face was burning red. "Well, that's sort of the point when you fancy a girl, isn't it?" he muttered.</p>
<p>Neville smiled. "What I mean is, even if you did nothing about it your friendship would still be different," he said. "Because you never wanted to do that before and now you do. The way I see it, hanging around her all the time wanting to kiss her—and not doing it—could be risking the friendship just as much as doing something about it would. I mean, <em>eventually</em> she'd have to notice that you're acting differently. Hermione's pretty perceptive, you know."</p>
<p>Did he ever. Especially when it came to him.</p>
<p>And he supposed Neville was right. He didn't know much about feelings, but he didn't think the ones he was having now would just go away the way his crush on Cho did. And he couldn't exactly be friends with Hermione for the next few years, tracing the direction of her curls with his eyes and feeling like he was barreling down the quidditch pitch during every lesson they sat next to each other. He had to do <em>something</em>.</p>
<p>He looked up at Neville, feeling resolute. "Right," Harry said, nodding. "So what do I do then? How do I tell her? And how do I…"</p>
<p>He trailed off, not quite wanting to ask his friend how you go about kissing a girl.</p>
<p>"Blimey, Harry, I don't know that part," Neville said, his eyes wide. He looked as out of his depth as Harry was.</p>
<p>What Harry needed was advice—from someone older, someone wiser, someone who had snogged a girl once or twice before.</p>
<hr/>
<p>
  <em>Dear Snuffles,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Things are going well here. We've just found out that the third task will be a maze—so we've been preparing for the right thing all along!</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I've been training really hard—the other champions are really helping me with my spells. Fleur's been training me to duel nonverbally, and Viktor knows quite a bit about African magical creatures (he played a few matches there on the way to the World Cup). </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And Moody says that I've taken to my lessons "moderately" well, which Hermione reckons must be high praise coming from someone like him.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Speaking of Hermione, there was something I was wondering about. If you had a friend who was a girl, how would you go about finding out if, perhaps, she'd prefer to be more than friends?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I hope you're doing well and I will write as soon as I can if I find out anything more about the task.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry</em>
</p>
<p>Harry sent the letter off with one of the school barn owls feeling quite pleased with himself. He'd asked the question he needed—but he didn't think it sounded <em>too </em>anxious. Now he just had to wait for a response.</p>
<p>He didn't have to wait long.</p>
<p>On Sunday afternoon, he awoke from a nap—he'd spent the morning dueling Cedric, successfully lobbing five nonverbal spells at him and deflecting three of Cedric's—to a very large weight on his chest. Blearily, he opened his eyes and though his vision was blurred, he could see two very large eyes staring back at him.</p>
<p>"Dobby?" Harry croaked, reaching for his glasses.</p>
<p>"Hello, Harry Potter!" he squeaked excitedly, leaning in closer. "Harry Potter's <em>friend</em> is wanting me to deliver this to you!"</p>
<p>He was waving around a letter happily.</p>
<p>"He says it is most important that this gets to Harry Potter quickly, and Dobby is wanting to help!"</p>
<p>Harry jolted up. It must be from Sirius.</p>
<p>"Thanks, Dobby!" he said gratefully, taking the letter from him. He was about to open it, but paused—probably best not to share this information with Dobby.</p>
<p>"How is he doing?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Very well, sir!" Dobby exclaimed. "He is a good and kind wizard—not that Dobby expects any less from someone who is friends with Harry Potter! He likes Dobby's puddings especially!"</p>
<p>Harry grinned. "And how are you?" Harry asked. "And Winky?"</p>
<p>Dobby's ears drooped. "Harry Potter is very kind to ask, and Dobby is very happy here at Hogwarts. Professor Dumbledore is a very good master," he said, but then his voice dropped to a whisper, "but Winky is not doing so well. She drinks all the time and hardly does work. She <em>still</em> thinks Mr. Crouch is her master. The other elves do not like having her around."</p>
<p>Dobby shuddered a bit, and Harry felt a pang of guilt. He and the others had wanted so much to investigate the house elf bond, but they'd gotten sidetracked by the third task. He resolved that as soon as it was over, that would be their top priority.</p>
<p>Dobby stayed a little while longer, and then with a pop, he was gone. Harry tore into the letter.</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry,</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm glad to hear your training is going well, and that you've got such impeccable taste in witches.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Your father was always a fan of the direct route when it came to asking out a girl he fancied—namely your mum—though he didn't always go about it in the best way, asking her out very publicly in the great hall or the</em> common<em> room.</em></p>
<p>The first thing Harry thought was that this was some new tidbit of information about his parents—his dad had fancied his mum first. The second thing he thought was his dad was a bit of an idiot when he was a teenager.</p>
<p>Harry couldn't imagine asking any girl out—even Hermione—in front of a crowd. And forget about kissing her. For the past year, the entire world had thought it was entitled to every detail of Harry's private life, but whatever happened between him and Hermione, it should be just for them. Everyone else could go hang.</p>
<p>
  <em>While his strategy might not have been the best, I do generally think the direct route is a solid approach… especially when you're already friends with the girl. They like honesty. At least, that's what eventually worked for your dad. The day Lily said yes to a date, he told me that she'd thought he was making a bit of a joke of it all those other times, carrying on in front of others. "Apparently," he said, "all you've got to do is be honest with a girl about your feelings, and she likes that."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>But if you're too nervous for that, there's always more subtle ways—carrying her books, touching her arm when you're talking to her, complimenting her, and then seeing how she reacts.</em>
</p>
<p>Harry complimented Hermione a fair bit—she was brilliant—but he wasn't sure if she'd ever had any particular reaction to it.</p>
<p><em>Your mum told me once that clever girls</em> <em>often get complimented for being clever—and while she preferred hearing she was clever or compassionate or kind more than anything else because those were the qualities she liked best about herself—it didn't hurt to hear that she was pretty, too, every once in awhile.</em></p>
<p>Harry had to stop reading for a moment, feeling eternally grateful for Sirius. He wasn't just giving Harry his own advice—in a strange way, it was like Harry was getting to talk about these things with his own parents.</p>
<p>
  <em>Reading between the lines of your question a bit, I'd say that when it comes to kissing a girl for the first time, don't worry about being perfect—if the girl is someone you care about and she feels the same way back, it will be…and besides, half the fun is practicing. However, I have found that the Minting Spell is a very useful one to know (all you have to do is point your wand at your mouth, and the incantation is "Mint Me.")</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Let me know how things go, continue your training and write me if anything feels amiss at Hogwarts.</em>
</p>
<p>—<em>S</em></p>
<p>
  <em>P.S. Hermione was right about Moody. I spent years in the Order with the man, and the nicest compliment I ever heard him pay to someone (your father, in fact) was "Competent job, Potter."</em>
</p>
<p>Harry pondered Sirius' words for a while. He wasn't sure he could just come out and say something… but carrying Hermione's books and telling her she looked pretty, that was definitely something he could try.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione Granger was perhaps the most confounding witch Harry had ever met.</p>
<p>Over the next few weeks, he tried to follow Sirius' advice.</p>
<p>One morning he told her that her hair looked pretty. She blushed furiously, smoothing her hands over her curls, but gave him an incredulous look, reminding him that her hair "was absolutely ridiculous."</p>
<p>He didn't think it was ridiculous at all.</p>
<p>He tried carrying her bookbag, and he thought she seemed grateful for it, but then she'd launch into a new litany of spells she found to help him in the maze—like Point Me, a spell that would act as a compass—and then he felt a bit stupid that she was spending hours researching for him even now and all he was doing for her was carrying a book or two. (Well, twelve. Hermione had a lot of books.)</p>
<p>He tried tapping her on the arm when he was talking to her, or brushing his knee against hers when they were sitting next to each other in the great hall, and even though they'd seemed to fall into that sort of behavior following the incident with Crouch and especially at Wiggentree Manor, he usually felt her stiffen, and then she immediately launched into new plans for training.</p>
<p>And he had no clue what any of it meant. Sometimes she seemed to smile, and sometimes she blushed, but then she'd become completely focused on the task at hand—namely, preparing for the tournament.</p>
<p>And, obviously, he was grateful for that—and Harry was still focused on the tournament and his training too—but he wished he understood what it all meant.</p>
<p>And then something happened that took Harry's mind off Hermione—and the tournament and Voldemort—completely.</p>
<p>Breakfast was halfway over when the usual swarm of owls swooped in, delivering everyone's mail. Harry didn't get anything this particular day, but Hermione got her usual delivery from the <em>Daily Prophet.</em></p>
<p>She opened the front page and immediately frowned. "Oh!" she cried.</p>
<p>Harry sat up straighter, instantly alert.</p>
<p>"What is it?" he asked, leaning closer to her to get a better look. The front page article was another Rita Skeeter original. Harry expected to see his name, but instead he saw: <em>'A Nightmare for Fudge': Was Sirius Black framed?</em></p>
<p>Harry closed his eyes. More than anything, he wanted the truth to come out, but who knew what kind of spin Skeeter had put on it. He scanned through the article.</p>
<p>She knew almost everything—how Moody had named Pettigrew as one of his attackers, how there was an investigation to determine if Sirius had been framed by Pettigrew all those years ago, how Harry had testified on Sirius' behalf, how Pettigrew was an animagus.</p>
<p>
  <em>The department refused to comment on any potential ongoing investigations, though a source close to the Minister reported that any talk of Black being innocent was "rubbish" and all was a ploy by Albus Dumbledore to seize control of the Ministry—and the headmaster is using his influence over the Boy Who Lived to manipulate Potter into helping.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A source close to Dumbledore scoffed at the idea that the headmaster is gunning for the Minister for Magic job: "As if Dumbledore would ever want it," he retorted scornfully.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>So is Albus Dumbledore vying for power and using the Boy Who Lived to do it? Or is Black innocent, another victim of a woefully inept Ministry? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Thirteen years ago, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge was Junior Minister in the Department of Magical Catastrophes, and was one of the first on the scene when Black was arrested. In his report of the incident he wrote, "Black is mad…. Absolutely mad. The nutter deserves worse than Azkaban."</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>And, of course, the still-missing Barty Crouch Sr.—the father of Pettigrew's supposed partner in crime—was the Ministry official who rushed Black's sentencing through without a proper trial.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>A source close to a high-ranking Ministry official said that once all of this came out, it'd "be a nightmare for Fudge!"</em>
</p>
<p>Harry, Hermione, Neville and Ron all stared at each other, completely silent. Harry had no idea if this was a good thing for Sirius or not, but he could feel the hall start to go silent, conversation lowering to a hushed whisper. People were talking about him again.</p>
<p>He turned to Hermione, searching her eyes. "What does this mean?" he asked.</p>
<p>She shook her head. "I don't know," she said. "Honestly, it comes off looking worse for Fudge, doesn't it? But who knows what people will believe?"</p>
<p>"How do you think she found out?" Ron asked.</p>
<p>"Well, she clearly has sources at the Ministry," Neville answered. "She's covered it for years, so she's got to have moles."</p>
<p>Except some of it had felt oddly familiar. Hermione was frowning too, and Harry could tell she was thinking the same thing.</p>
<p>"Ron," she said slowly, "I think you might be the source close to the high-ranking official."</p>
<p>Ron's head snapped up, and he glared at Hermione, completely affronted. "I haven't talked to her!" he said hotly. "I would never—"</p>
<p>"No, <em>no,</em>" Hermione interrupted impatiently, shaking her head. "Don't you remember? At Hagrid's? 'A nightmare for Fudge' were your exact words."</p>
<p>Harry studied the paper more closely. "Yeah," he said. "And this bit here—as if Dumbledore would ever want it—Hagrid said that."</p>
<p>"So, she was listening to us again?" Neville asked. "But how?"</p>
<p>Hermione bit her lip, her face screwed up in concentration. "Well, the window was open," she said.</p>
<p>"So what?" Ron asked. "You think she was hanging around outside?"</p>
<p>But they didn't get much time to debate the possibilities because by now everyone seemed to be very interested in their conversation, silently staring at their plates as if they were the most extraordinary things in the world.</p>
<p>"Come on," Harry muttered. "Let's go."</p>
<hr/>
<p>The rest of the day continued like that. Dean was the only one to ask him straight out if Sirius Black was really innocent, to which Harry answered honestly.</p>
<p>"Wow," Dean said. "I wasn't sure if it was just that Skeeter woman exaggerating some more about you."</p>
<p>But he seemed to take Harry at his word, bolstering Harry's confidence that maybe others would too.</p>
<p>Everyone else mostly just whispered around him, but it all came to a head in his last class of the day—Potions.</p>
<p>Snape had been crueler than usual lately. He'd clearly been informed about the investigation into his teaching, and had taken to berating Hermione specifically, chastising her for cutting her roots poorly (they were the neatest in the class) and giving her extra homework for it (shows what he knew—Hermione <em>liked</em> homework). But Hermione had taken it all in stride, reminding them that if her plan worked they'd only have to deal with this behavior for a little while longer.</p>
<p>But when Snape swept into class and saw the <em>Daily Prophet </em>on Pansy Parkinson's desk, he went deathly silent, his face arranging itself in a rage-filled mask Harry hadn't seen since that night in the Shrieking Shack when Snape had been completely deranged.</p>
<p>"Put that rubbish away, Miss Parkinson," he sneered. "Lies like that have no place in a classroom."</p>
<p>Pansy moved to put the paper away, but Harry felt something inside him snap. Snape looked as unhinged as he did that night, and Harry remembered how helpless he felt watching Pettigrew get away, having to <em>let</em> him get away a second time when they went back in time, all because Snape had refused to listen to them.</p>
<p>"What lies?" he asked. "Sirius <em>was</em> framed by Pettigrew."</p>
<p>The rest of the class watched them with bated breath. Draco Malfoy leaned forward gleefully.</p>
<p>Snape turned to him, his eyes cold. "Ah, Mr. Potter," he said. "Desperate for a bit more attention, are you? Sirius Black was a Death Eater who murdered more than a dozen people. There's ample evidence of that."</p>
<p>Harry's hands clenched, enraged that <em>this</em> man was calling Sirius a Death Eater. "Well, you'd know all about being a Death Eater, wouldn't you, <em>Professor</em>?" he asked. "Tell me, how <em>does</em> one conjure the Dark Mark?"</p>
<p>The room was eerily silent, except for Lavender, who gasped.</p>
<p>"Detention, Mr. Potter," Snape bit out, a vicious smile on his face.</p>
<p>But Harry wasn't done. "You can give me all the detentions in the world, but that won't change the fact that Sirius is innocent, and soon everyone will know that," he insisted. "You would've known that too, a year ago, if—"</p>
<p>"If what?" Snape spat, moving closer to Harry. "If you and your meddling know-it-all fan club hadn't interfered? You all should've been expelled for that."</p>
<p>Harry felt his anger rising as Snape moved closer and closer to him.</p>
<p>"Well, if you hadn't been so pathetic, letting some schoolyard grudge get in the way, we wouldn't have had to do anything!" he yelled, standing up. "But it was more important to you to rush Sirius to the dementors so he could have his soul sucked out than to find out the truth!"</p>
<p>"The truth," Snape snarled, "is that Sirius Black is and has always been a violent menace capable of murder, and anyone who doesn't believe <em>that</em> belongs in St. Mungo's Ward for the Incurably Insane with the other addle-brained nitwits who drool more than they—"</p>
<p>But Harry never learned what they did or didn't do because there was a shout and a loud bang, and then Snape sailed across the room, hitting the stone wall with a sickening crunch before sliding ungracefully to the floor.</p>
<p>Harry's heart was pounding and there was a very loud throbbing in his ears, and he almost would've thought he'd done it with accidental magic, but when he looked to the right he saw Neville standing beside him, arm outstretched and wand shaking, his face contorted in rage.</p>
<p>Neville had finally mastered the banishing charm.</p>
<p>The entire class was silent, momentarily stunned by what had just happened.</p>
<p>Finally, Ron broke them from their stupor. "That was bloody brilliant," he said, awed.</p>
<p>And then Malfoy laughed. "Longbottom, you're going to get expelled for that for sure," he crowed.</p>
<p>Seamus, Parvati and Ron all told him where he could shove it.</p>
<p>Ignoring Malfoy, Harry moved briskly to the front of the room to see how bad it was for Neville.</p>
<p>"Is he…?" Hermione asked uncertainly.</p>
<p>Harry crouched down. Snape's arm was bent in a disturbing manner and he was completely unconscious, but he appeared to be breathing.</p>
<p>"He's fine," Harry announced.</p>
<p>"Too bad," Ron muttered.</p>
<p>And then the classroom erupted into chaos, the Slytherins shouting and jeering at Neville—who still seemed to be mostly shocked by what he had done—and the Gryffindors fighting back. Harry looked helplessly at Hermione, who was trying to cajole Neville into lowering his wand. He returned to the desk to help her.</p>
<p>"He said—" Neville muttered, clearly still stunned.</p>
<p>"I know," Hermione said soothingly, gently pushing his arm down.</p>
<p>"It was a brilliant hit," Harry added. "Flitwick would've given you top marks."</p>
<p>Neville laughed a bit hysterically at the absurdity of the situation, but before he could say anything more, Professor McGonagall stormed into the room.</p>
<p>"I could hear you all from the great hall," she admonished them. "What—"</p>
<p>She saw Professor Snape lying on the floor, and yelped a bit, looking completely flummoxed.</p>
<p>"What is going on here?" she demanded. "How did this happen?"</p>
<p>"Longbottom did it," Malfoy practically yelled. "Just attacked Professor Snape out of nowhere."</p>
<p>"It's true," Pansy added quickly. "We all saw it!"</p>
<p>"It's not!" Harry yelled back. "He was provoked!"</p>
<p>And then the class erupted into shouting again.</p>
<p>"Silence!" Professor McGonagall said, not quite shouting, but still managing to be louder than everyone anyway. She surveyed the class. "The Slytherins will return to their common room at once."</p>
<p>"But surely, Professor, he's got to be expelled for this," Malfoy said arrogantly.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall gave him a withering stare. "And when was it, Mr. Malfoy, that you were named headmaster and are therefore now in charge of expulsions?" she asked dismissively. "I assure you, as deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor house, I know a bit more about this than you. You may go."</p>
<p>The Slytherins grumbled as they collected their things.</p>
<p>When they'd gone, Professor McGonagall surveyed the Gryffindors coolly, sizing them up.</p>
<p>"Ms. Brown," she said. "Explain."</p>
<p>And Lavender did, relaying every detail, every word to Professor McGonagall—she couldn't have chosen a better Gryffindor to question. "So, you see, Professor, it wasn't Neville's fault," Lavender ended breathlessly. "Snape said those things about… and, well, <em>everyone</em> knows about Neville's parents!"</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall seemed to consider Neville. "I'm going to take Professor Snape to the hospital wing. Mr. Longbottom, please wait for me in my office. The rest of you return to the common room," she said, in a voice that brokered no room for discussion.</p>
<p>But it was Dean Thomas who had an odd look on his face and didn't move with the rest of them. "Is it true?" he asked. "Was Snape a Death Eater?"</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall hesitated, but Hermione turned to him. "Yes," she answered, and the pair exchanged a look that reminded Harry how different Hogwarts and the wizarding world at large were for them.</p>
<p>No one said a word as they headed out of the dungeons. When Neville broke off from the larger group to go to Professor McGonagall's office, Harry and Hermione went with him, steering him on either side.</p>
<p>"I'm going to be expelled," he whispered, his face completely terrified.</p>
<p>"You're <em>not</em> going to be expelled," Hermione insisted. "Malfoy doesn't know what he's talking about."</p>
<p>"We do stuff like this all the time," Harry added, "and we've never been expelled."</p>
<p>"I attacked a teacher," Neville whimpered.</p>
<p>"You attacked <em>Snape,</em>" Harry corrected. "And you were provoked."</p>
<p>"He's already under investigation," Hermione pointed out.</p>
<p>"We attacked him just last year, and we weren't expelled. And Hermione set him on fire once," Harry added helpfully.</p>
<p>"Dumbledore will understand," Hermione asserted, as they reached the office and sat Neville in the chair.</p>
<p>But then Neville's eyes widened like he'd just thought of something, and he groaned, putting his head in his hands. "My gran," he moaned. "When she finds out…"</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione looked helplessly at each other. Neville's gran had sent him a howler for his behavior before—when he'd lost the list of passwords to Gryffindor Tower—but Harry wasn't sure how she would react to this.</p>
<p>When Professor McGonagall entered the room, Harry and Hermione were still standing on either side of Neville, their arms crossed and their faces defiant, like silent sentinels.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall looked exasperated. "I wasn't aware there were three Mr. Longbottoms," she said.</p>
<p>"It's not his fault, Professor," Harry said.</p>
<p>"I <em>told</em> you Professor Snape was a bully," Hermione added.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall surveyed them. "I've heard what you have to say, but I <em>do </em>need to talk to Mr. Longbottom alone," she said. "Return to Gryffindor Tower."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione looked at Neville, who nodded miserably at them, and they reluctantly left. They made it as far as the end of the corridor. Hermione slid down the wall, watching Professor McGonagall's closed door, and Harry sat next to her.</p>
<p>She was twisting her hands around nervously, and Harry took one in his to calm her, even as he felt his heart racing faster at her touch.</p>
<p>"You don't think she'll expel him, do you?" she asked anxiously.</p>
<p>Desperately wanting to make her feel better—and himself, to tell the truth—Harry tried to rationalize it. "She would've gotten Dumbledore if she was going to do that, right?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, looking a little less uncertain, but they both sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, before the door opened and Neville shuffled out. When Professor McGonagall saw them sitting there, she shot them a look that was equal parts exasperation and pride.</p>
<p>They didn't dawdle, moving quickly back toward Gryffindor Tower.</p>
<p>"How'd it go?" Harry asked, as soon as they were out of earshot.</p>
<p>"Not bad," Neville said, clearly relieved. "No expulsion—just loads of detention."</p>
<p>Harry was certainly pleased about that, but he couldn't help but worry what would happen the next time they had Potions. He fervently wished Hermione's plan would work—otherwise Neville was in for an even more miserable time next year.</p>
<p>Neville's mood seemed lighter when they reached Gryffindor Tower, and it got even better when they opened the portrait hole to shouts and cheers and a standing ovation from the entire house. Word of Neville's deed had spread, and Fred and George had managed to procure a veritable feast from the kitchens.</p>
<p>"Brilliant!" Fred gushed, clapping Neville on the back, an admiring look on his face, as George and Lee set off fireworks.</p>
<p>"Honestly, Neville, that was great," Ron added, beaming. "Best Potions class <em>ever</em>!"</p>
<p>And Neville, who'd never had a Gryffindor party in his honor before, quickly forgot any distress he'd been feeling an hour ago and even his worry of what his gran would say on the matter.</p>
<hr/>
<p>As it turns out, Neville didn't have to worry about what his gran would say. He didn't receive a howler—nor any sort of admonishment. Instead, he got a short, succinct letter from her—"Well done" she'd written—and an entire case of chocolate frogs, which he shared with the rest of the Gryffindor table. Snape, who was out of the hospital wing fairly quickly, looked on angrily from his perch at the staff table.</p>
<p>Harry worried what their next Potions class would bring, but he needn't have. When they showed up, they found Professor Sprout there along with Professor Snape—supposedly because the potion they were working on needed the leaves from a freshly cut venomous tentacula, but Harry suspected she was there to diffuse any tensions. In any case, Professor Sprout didn't leave, claiming she loved to see Herbology brought to life in practice in Potions class. Snape was on better behavior than he ever had been, and Neville received the first compliment in Potions from a teacher that he'd ever gotten when Professor Sprout praised his knowledge about the interaction between the leaves and dittany.</p>
<p>Life returned to normal for a few days after Neville attacked Snape—training and trying (and failing) to interpret Hermione's reactions to his overtures—all the while the threat of the third task loomed larger. And then, impossibly, it was the night before the third task.</p>
<p>They pretended like everything was normal at dinner. Ron gave them a play by play of the match he'd won in chess club, Neville raved about how good the potatoes were, and Hermione rambled on about her Ancient Runes lesson. Harry ate his dinner quietly, trying not to think about the next day.</p>
<p>At the end of the meal, Hermione turned to Harry, her eyes fretful even as she tried to look calm. "Do you want to go train some more?" she asked. "We can go to Professor McGonagall's classroom and practice your jinxes."</p>
<p>But Harry didn't want to train. If he didn't know it now, he doubted he would by tomorrow. What he really wanted was to grab his firebolt and fly at top speed, forgetting everything he had to face tomorrow. But even just a walk outside would probably do him some good.</p>
<p>"I think I want to just go for a walk," he answered honestly. "Clear my head a bit."</p>
<p>"Oh," Hermione said, looking a bit like she wanted to argue, like she didn't want to waste any moment of time that could be spent practicing. "All right."</p>
<p>And then Harry realized that he didn't want to be alone at all.</p>
<p>"Do you want to come?" he blurted.</p>
<p>Hermione blinked once and then grinned. "Sure," she said, turning to Ron and Neville expectantly.</p>
<p>Harry liked his friends very much, but he fervently didn't want them to come along this time.</p>
<p>Neville read his expression perfectly because he quickly said, "No thanks. Lavender and Parvati offered to help with the Divination homework."</p>
<p>Ron's ears perked up at that. Lavender and Parvati thoroughly liked Divination and took any chance they got to practice it—so doing homework with them usually meant getting them to read your tea leaves or your palm and do all the work for you.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I should <em>probably</em> get going on the assignment, too," he said, grinning at Hermione for the first time in ages. "Homework's vitally important, eh, Hermione?"</p>
<p>Hermione looked very much like she wanted to roll her eyes—she knew exactly why he wanted to work with Lavender and Parvati—but in the spirit of renewed friendship, she held her tongue.</p>
<p>"Have fun," she said drily, as she and Harry stood to make their way outside.</p>
<p>He was very aware of her presence next to him, and he felt his heart pounding, certain she could hear it too.</p>
<p>They circled the lake at sunset, the lake where the judges had rightly declared Hermione the person he'd miss most in the world, the lake they had circled that cold day in November when this all began, when she was the only one to believe in him.</p>
<p>But it wasn't cold this day. It was June and it was warm, with a slight breeze wafting the aroma of flowers from Professor Sprout's private greenhouse their way. The sun was setting, shimmering on the lake, a painting of gold and orange and pink.</p>
<p>They stood beside a tree, silent, taking in the breathtaking view. Sighing, Hermione leaned against Harry, reminding him of when she'd done the same thing at the Yule Ball—how had he not seen it then? How did he not realize what he was feeling?</p>
<p>But it was like she said—the Yule Ball had been a fantasy, and Harry preferred reality: bushy-haired Hermione with ink smudges on her fingers.</p>
<p>He felt the weight of her, the softness of her hair brushing against him, and he took a deep breath and did the thing he should have done that clear December night: He entwined his fingers in hers, moving his thumb in soft circles, reveling in the now-familiar thrill he got whenever he touched Hermione.</p>
<p>He felt her still, felt her breath hitch at his ministrations and hope rose in his heart. Was her reaction what he thought? Or was it wishful thinking on his part?</p>
<p>He shifted so he could look at her, watched as she raised her head to do the same. There was a question in her eyes, but something else, too, something Harry thought could be reflected in his own.</p>
<p>"Harry?"</p>
<p>And then he knew what he had to do. Maybe the gravity of what he'd be facing the next day brought him some clarity, but he knew he shouldn't have spent the past few weeks hinting at anything—he was rubbish at reading signs and should've just been direct from the start.</p>
<p>Harry wasn't someone who was used to words—he'd been taught from an early age to be silent, to make himself inconspicuous, and he always did until anger got the best of him and words rose out of him like an eruption he couldn't stop. But while he might not be good with words, Harry <em>was</em> a person of action.</p>
<p>It didn't matter that he didn't really know what he was doing—when had <em>that</em> ever stopped him anyway?</p>
<p>Grateful that he'd practiced the Minting Spell nonverbally when he'd finished his dinner, he tilted his head, slowly leaning closer to her, and he saw the question in her eyes clear up as her eyelids fluttered closed. And as he closed his, he felt her breath on his lips, tantalizingly close. He edged forward a bit, their lips coming together in the lightest of touches, no more pressure than the feel of the feather of her quill.</p>
<p>It felt electric, crackling out from his lips down to his fingertips. He opened his eyes and shifted back to look at her—did she feel it too?</p>
<p>Her eyes were still closed, but he felt her pulse in the hand he still held; it was beating as fast as his.</p>
<p>Her eyes opened, warm brown meeting green, and there was a gleam there Harry had never seen before. She grinned a little—half a smile, really—and suddenly her free hand was in his hair, pulling him back to her, her lips an open invitation that Harry gladly accepted.</p>
<p>She was bold and assertive, and Harry didn't know much about kissing, but he found he rather liked that. Their lips met more forcefully this time, a solid pressure that coursed the electricity all the way down to his toes.</p>
<p>This was no friendship. This was something so much better.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0023"><h2>23. Chapter 23</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione Granger was not someone who was used to being speechless. Or unable to think. But kissing Harry Potter made her both.</p>
<p>She wasn't even sure how it had all happened. She'd spent dinner with her stomach in knots over what would be occurring the next day, prattling on about school in an effort to make everything seem perfectly fine. And then she'd wanted to go train some more, but Harry wanted to take a walk. And he looked so nervous and stressed about the third task, and he sounded so convinced that this was the right thing to do, and… well… she couldn't say no to him.</p>
<p>And then the walk had been so perfect. She'd spent all of her time the past couple of months trying to pretend like nothing had changed, trying to stay focused on the third task, trying to make "Save Harry, Snog Harry" a reality. And it had been difficult, especially the past few weeks, with him carrying her books, stealing her quill with a fantastic bit of advanced magic that she couldn't help but marvel at, taking her hand when she was worried about Neville, telling her that the unruly, awful mess of hair on top of her head looked pretty… It was like everything he did was designed to undermine her plan, and it took all of her willpower to stay the course.</p>
<p>But then they'd been on their walk, and the lake had been beautiful and serene, and thanks to Professor Sprout's greenhouse, the scent in the air reminded her of the secret garden, and she'd let down her defenses just a little bit and leaned into him. She couldn't help it. The moment was too perfect.</p>
<p>Except it wasn't because then he'd kissed her and she'd realized <em>that</em> had made it perfect.</p>
<p>It's also when her brain stopped working.</p>
<p>He'd leaned in and she'd gone completely blank, the pixies in her stomach exploding as soon as his lips touched hers. But too soon, he was gone, and he'd looked at her, his green eyes mesmerizing, and she'd just reacted—like instinct, like impulse, exactly as Angelina said it would happen.</p>
<p>But it was so much better than Angelina, Alicia and Katie had described. She'd fancied him and fantasized about what kissing him might be like, but nothing she had dreamed of felt like this. This just felt <em>right.</em></p>
<p>She wasn't sure how long they kissed—her other hand wound its way into his hair, and both of his found her waist, pulling her closer—but by the time they pulled away, they were both completely breathless.</p>
<p>She still couldn't think properly standing so close to him, so she took a step back, hoping to gain some perspective.</p>
<p>His hair was a mess—even more so than usual, which was saying something.</p>
<p>Goodness. Had <em>she </em>done that?</p>
<p>He was grinning widely as he adjusted his glasses. She played with a piece of her hair nervously, not sure what to say, but it was usually up to her to break the ice when it came to talking about feelings with Harry.</p>
<p>"You ruined my plan," she heard herself say.</p>
<p>Well. Whatever she'd meant to say, it wasn't that.</p>
<p>"What?" Harry asked, looking utterly perplexed.</p>
<p>"My plan," she blurted. "We weren't supposed to kiss until after the third task."</p>
<p>Oh, god.</p>
<p>She bit her lip, her eyes not quite meeting his, her face starting to turn red—she'd definitely not meant to say <em>that</em>. Had his kisses made her stupid?</p>
<p>"Oh," Harry said, not quite understanding, looking at her awkwardly. "Sorry."</p>
<p>He looked confused and she instantly regretted opening her mouth and ruining this perfect night. Yes, she'd had a plan, and yes, Harry's safety was still the most important thing, but now that she'd gone and kissed him properly, she realized her plan had been her most idiotic notion since she thought Gilderoy Lockhart was a skilled wizard.</p>
<p>Wanting to recapture the moment, she admitted, "It's all right. Your way was better."</p>
<p>She peeked up at his eyes, a shy, hopeful smile on her face.</p>
<p>And then his brain seemed to catch up with the rest of him, and he realized what she had said—she hadn't just kissed him back in the moment; she'd had a whole plan about it.</p>
<p>His entire face changed. He started to grin, his eyes lighting up with wonder, as if he had just discovered a thirteenth use for dragon blood or some other great mystery of the universe.</p>
<p>"You fancy me a bit," he said, sounding surprised and prideful all at once.</p>
<p>Her face felt even hotter. It was true—<em>more than true</em>—but having that truth sitting out there between them was nerve-wracking. Sure, he'd kissed her, but, well, he was a teenage boy. Most of them would kiss anyone. What if this had just been some sort of fluke?</p>
<p>"Well, you kissed me first," she pointed out. "What was that about?"</p>
<p>Harry's hands were in the pockets of his robes, and to her surprise, he turned a little pink. "Well," he shrugged, still grinning at her, " I fancy you a bit, too."</p>
<p>Hearing him say the words sent the pixies into a full-on celebration.</p>
<p>She grinned at him and he grinned back, and she felt very silly and happy and ecstatic, and honestly, this had to be the best day in her entire existence.</p>
<p>They stood like that for an eternity, just smiling at each other, until Hermione started to feel a little self-conscious about it. She needed to regain a bit of control over her emotions.</p>
<p>"Right," she said officiously, nodding her head firmly, "so it's settled then. We both fancy each other a bit."</p>
<p>"Right," Harry agreed, grinning at her again, making her feel warm inside.</p>
<p>They stayed down by the lake for a while, sitting side by side, her hand in his and her head on his shoulder, watching the sun go down. They didn't talk much—they didn't need to.</p>
<p>But as the last of the sun's rays disappeared, and darkness fell, the quiet suddenly felt like too much.</p>
<p>"Are you nervous?" she asked. "About tomorrow?"</p>
<p>She felt Harry shrug. "I'd be stupid not to be," he admitted. "But it's not like there's much I can do about it now."</p>
<p>She squeezed his fingers, needing to firmly feel his presence.</p>
<p>"Are <em>you</em> nervous?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Well, that was a ridiculous question. When was she <em>not</em> worried about Harry's welfare? She would be surprised if she didn't have gray hair by 17 on account of him.</p>
<p>She was quiet for a moment, trying to think of the best way to answer him without letting him know exactly how terrified she was—he didn't need any more stress.</p>
<p>"I believe in you and in what you can do," she finally said. "You're a great wizard, remember?"</p>
<p>She smiled at the memory—the first time she'd hugged him, back when they were just first years attempting to steal the philosopher's stone. She'd been sending him into the unknown, just as she was now, but then and now, her faith in him was unshakeable.</p>
<p>Harry scoffed. "Hermione, whatever happens tomorrow, I'm only prepared for it because of you," he said.</p>
<p>"No, Harry," she said quickly, sitting up to look at him. "I just… did a bit of research. You're the one who's been training and practicing every day. You're the one who's learned spells you shouldn't even be seeing until N.E.W.T. level—and even beyond. You deserve the credit for that. None of that was me."</p>
<p>He smiled slightly, looking a bit embarrassed by her praise.</p>
<p>"All right, then," he said, "it was both of us together."</p>
<p>"We make a pretty good team," she agreed, liking the sound of that.</p>
<p>She shivered a bit—without the sun, sitting by the lake was cold—and Harry tugged on her hand, pulling her up.</p>
<p>"We should probably go back to the common room," he said, sounding regretful.</p>
<p>He didn't let go of her hand as they made their way to the castle.</p>
<p>They'd held hands before, but somehow this time felt different—possessive somehow?—and she found she rather liked that.</p>
<p>When they reached the seventh floor, she slowed. They'd agreed that they fancied each other a bit, but not much more than that.</p>
<p>"If we go in there holding hands, people will assume…things," she said.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged and rolled his eyes. "Half of them have been thinking we've been dating for months anyway," he pointed out. "All I really care about is what we think."</p>
<p><em>We</em>. Hermione definitely liked the sound of that.</p>
<p>She gave Harry a sidelong glance—there was still a small smile playing on his lips and his eyes looked mirthful. Despite the looming third task, he looked happy, and she felt a burst of pride that she'd done that.</p>
<p>She honestly still couldn't believe that this perfect night had happened.</p>
<p>All year, people had been prying into his life—hers too. She liked the idea of this being their moment, one that they didn't have to share with the world—at least for a little while longer.</p>
<p>"Don't take this the wrong way," she said, turning to Harry, hesitating a bit.</p>
<p>He furrowed his brow at her, his face full of caution. "Take what the wrong way?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Well, maybe this could be just for us for tonight," she said, before quickly adding, "It's not that I don't want people to know… It's just… well… it's none of their business, is it? And tonight was so special that I just don't really want to share it. Not yet, anyway."</p>
<p>She searched his eyes, hoping he'd understand. He studied her face, silent, while she held her breath. Then his lips lifted in a half smile.</p>
<p>"Just for us sounds nice," he agreed, and she grinned at him.</p>
<p>He understood. Of course he understood. Harry wasn't the sort of person who went blabbing every detail of his life to everyone he met.</p>
<p>The Fat Lady eyed their joined hands suspiciously, but uncharacteristically said nothing as she let them pass. Harry let go of her hand to let her through the portrait hole first, and she surveyed the room. It was mostly empty, but Neville was sitting with Ron, Seamus and Dean by the fire.</p>
<p>"How did your Divination homework go?" Hermione asked nonchalantly, as she and Harry sat on the sofas with them.</p>
<p>"Good," Ron said cheerfully. "Lavender and Parvati were loads of help."</p>
<p>Hermione refrained from rolling her eyes—by "help" she knew he meant "did his homework"—but then she glanced sideways at Harry, and her frustration melted away. He smiled at her, a secret little smile that she returned.</p>
<p>Ron, Seamus and Dean didn't seem to notice anything amiss, but Neville eyed the two of them knowingly, his eyebrow raised. She blushed, and he and Harry seemed to communicate something she couldn't decipher, and then Neville grinned at her, clearly happy for his friends.</p>
<p>In Hermione's opinion, "happy" didn't even begin to describe how she felt.</p>
<hr/>
<p>"How did you sleep?" Hermione asked Harry as they walked down to breakfast the next morning.</p>
<p>"Fine," he replied, though he looked tired.</p>
<p>Well, of course that's what he'd say. Harry rarely complained or wanted to burden anyone with his problems, even when he had more reason than most people to do so.</p>
<p>She turned to Neville for confirmation. Harry saw and rolled his eyes.</p>
<p>"How would Neville know?" Harry asked. "He was snoring as soon as the lights were out."</p>
<p>"I don't snore," Neville said indignantly. "Do I?"</p>
<p>"Er, just a bit," Harry replied, laughing, a sound that made Hermione's heart lift. Neville frowned at this new bit of information.</p>
<p>"But Seamus talks in his sleep and that's much worse," Harry added sympathetically.</p>
<p>Breakfast was lively. Hermione sat next to Harry and slipped her hand into his under the table as they ate. No one seemed to find it unusual that she was using her fork with the wrong hand, except Alicia, who waggled her eyebrows suggestively at Hermione and gave her a thumbs up sign.</p>
<p>Hermione blushed and grinned back. Well, she'd known it couldn't be "just for them" forever.</p>
<p>Fleur had joined Cedric at the Hufflepuff table this morning, but Viktor was sitting a few seats down at the Gryffindor table, answering Seamus' many questions about professional quidditch with what Hermione thought was a fair bit of patience.</p>
<p>Harry received a letter at breakfast—a good-luck card from Sirius that consisted on a single muddy paw print—which seemed to cheer him up.</p>
<p>"Are you ready for the History of Magic exam?" he asked Hermione.</p>
<p>She nodded. She'd spent most of her time helping Harry to prepare, but she thought she'd logged enough hours revising for exams.</p>
<p>"How hard can it be?" Ron asked, waving his fork around. "Goblin rebellion of 1692, goblin rebellion of 1612, Ulric the Ugly, Stephen the Smarmy, goblin rebellion of blah blah blah…"</p>
<p>"It's <em>Samuel</em> the Smarmy," Hermione corrected, "and he was actually a really important figure! Without him, the goblins would have lost the Battle of Willow Vale, and that win was the whole reason for the treaty that ended the goblin rebellion of 1727."</p>
<p>Ron looked bored, Neville and Dean were clearly taking mental notes, and Harry was eyeing her suspiciously.</p>
<p>"You've got a favorite goblin rebellion, haven't you?" he asked, his eyes twinkling with humor.</p>
<p>"What," she replied, a bit thrown. Where had <em>that</em> come from?</p>
<p>But before he could answer, Professor McGonagall's shadow loomed over them.</p>
<p>"Potter," she said, "the champions are congregating in the chamber off the Hall after breakfast."</p>
<p>"But the task's not until tonight!" Harry said fretfully.</p>
<p>"I'm aware of that," she replied. "The champions' families are invited to watch the final task, you know. This is simply a chance for you to greet them."</p>
<p>Harry gaped at her as she mentioned the same to Viktor and walked away.</p>
<p>"But I haven't got any family," he said, before glancing at Sirius' note, his expression darkening. "None that could come here anyway."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him regretfully. "I'd come with you if I could," she said, but Harry shook his head.</p>
<p>"You've got exams," he replied.</p>
<p>They sat there for a few minutes more. Harry clearly didn't want to go into that room. Hermione saw Cedric and Fleur cross the Hall, and then Viktor raised his eyebrows at Harry.</p>
<p>"Should ve go?"</p>
<p>Harry hesitated. "Well—"</p>
<p>"My father vould really like to meet you," Viktor added. "I've told him a lot about you."</p>
<p>Harry looked surprised, but then nodded. "All right," he said, turning to Hermione and his friends. "Good luck on your exam."</p>
<p>And then he and Viktor walked off together.</p>
<p>Well, he might not have family, but at least he had a friend to keep him company.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The History of Magic exam was much easier than expected. There hadn't been any questions about any of the goblin rebellions of the seventeenth century, and one of the longest essay responses had been about Walter the Wicked, whom Hermione had written fifteen feet on last semester.</p>
<p>Professor Binns might be a bit dry, but he at least didn't mind when Hermione went a bit long with her homework.</p>
<p>She and Neville made a beeline down to the Great Hall for lunch, and she was surprised to see Harry sitting with Mrs. Weasley and Bill. The other Weasleys had already joined them, as had Fleur, Viktor and their families.</p>
<p>Fleur and Viktor both appeared to be very interested in what Bill was saying.</p>
<p>"I introduced Bill and Viktor earlier," Harry whispered as Hermione sat down next to him in the seat he had saved for her, "since Viktor's interested in curse breaking and had asked you for Bill's contact information. But Fleur seems to…."</p>
<p>"Fancy him a bit?" Hermione finished, leaning in closer and raising her eyebrow suggestively at him in a shameless bit of flirting she didn't know she had in her. Harry grinned, turning a bit pink.</p>
<p>"Hello Hermione!" Mrs. Weasley said, a bit too brightly, making a big display of greeting Hermione. "How are you doing, dear? How was your exam?"</p>
<p>"It went really well," Hermione replied. "I thought it was quite easy."</p>
<p>"Wonderful! Of course, that's to be expected coming from you," Mrs. Weasley complimented her, nodding vigorously, and then she turned to Ron.</p>
<p>"And you?" she asked her son. "Did <em>you</em> find it easy?"</p>
<p>As Mrs. Weasley proceeded to interrogate Ron, Hermione turned to Harry, puzzled.</p>
<p>"Does something seem off about her?" she asked.</p>
<p>"I think she's just uncomfortable because of what happened at the train platform," he muttered, a note of censure in his voice. "She's trying to be extra nice because of the awful things she thought about you."</p>
<p>She heard the criticism in his voice and his eyes looked more guarded than usual.</p>
<p>"Harry?" she asked. "Was everything all right this morning?"</p>
<p>He turned to her. "Fine," he said a bit tightly, but she didn't believe him.</p>
<p>She raised her eyebrow at him questioningly.</p>
<p>"Honestly," he whispered, "I'm glad Dumbledore asked someone to come and watch me, and that the Weasleys care enough to come. But… well, they're Ron's family."</p>
<p>The unspoken "not mine" was obvious.</p>
<p>It was a far cry from how Harry had felt at Christmas, worried that Mrs. Weasley would cut him off because of his fight with Ron—but a lot had happened since then.</p>
<p>"And there are people who <em>should</em> be here who aren't," Harry added.</p>
<p>She felt her heart ache for him. His parents should be here, first and foremost. Sirius, for sure. Even—</p>
<p>"Professor Lupin!" Dean shouted in greeting, from halfway down the table.</p>
<p>Harry, Hermione and Neville all swiveled toward the entrance, and sure enough, there was Lupin, still looking a bit bedraggled and worn, but smiling happily as he returned greetings with his former student.</p>
<p>"Harry!" he said warmly as he sat down next to Neville and across from them. "Sorry I'm late."</p>
<p>Harry didn't look sorry at all—he looked positively overjoyed.</p>
<p>Lupin leaned in. "I was helping a friend get sorted," he said, eyeing them significantly.</p>
<p>"Oh!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, looking surprised to see Lupin. She leaned across Ginny and Fred to be closer for the conversation. "Hello. It's so nice to see a teacher take an interest in a former student."</p>
<p>She said it all warmly enough, but it still rankled Hermione—Harry was a lot more than Lupin's former student.</p>
<p>Ron rolled his eyes at his mum. "Mum, I told you," he said. "Professor Lupin was one of Harry's dad's oldest friends."</p>
<p>"Hmm," Mrs. Weasley said, her lips pursed. "Yes, of course. I had forgotten."</p>
<p>But there was a hint of criticism in her voice, and Hermione couldn't tell if it was because Mrs. Weasley didn't believe a man who had only met Harry last year could possibly be such a good friend of his father's, or because she had believed the lies Rita Skeeter had spread about Lupin, too.</p>
<p>For his part, Lupin pretended not to notice. Hermione supposed he had a lot of practice at that, being a werewolf.</p>
<p>Harry leaned in closer. "Where's—"</p>
<p>But Lupin cut him off. "Somewhere safe, and maybe this afternoon we can cut away and visit him—but let's not talk about that now. You never know who's listening," he whispered.</p>
<p>Harry looked regretful. "You're right," he said in a low voice. "Rita Skeeter's been listening to more of our conversations."</p>
<p>Remus regarded them sharply. "You're sure?" he asked.</p>
<p>Neville nodded, but didn't speak until he'd looked around the table and saw everyone near them was engaged in other conversations. "We thought at first maybe she had an invisibility cloak—but disregarded that since Moody had a magical eye."</p>
<p>"Of course," Harry muttered, "it wasn't Moody at all."</p>
<p>"Still," Hermione added, "if the fake Moody had seen her, surely he would've reported it. She could have ruined his plans."</p>
<p>She felt the knots in her stomach again; for all they knew, Crouch's plans hadn't been ruined at all and there was something terrible waiting for Harry in that maze.</p>
<p>Lupin was shaking his head. "We saw Rita Skeeter right before she spied on us," he said. "She wasn't carrying an invisibility cloak or a bag. Unless she had stashed it in a tree."</p>
<p>Hmm. Hermione supposed she <em>could</em> have stashed it in a tree, but for something as expensive as an invisibility cloak—wouldn't it have been easier just to carry a bag? No one would think that unusual. The expression on Lupin's face said he'd come to the same conclusion.</p>
<p>"At least she seemed to go easier on Sirius than she did on me," Lupin said amiably.</p>
<p>"Not Fudge though," Hermione commented. She disliked Rita Skeeter with every fiber of her being, but after Fudge's refusal to listen to them last year and his behavior at her hearing, she couldn't drum up a whole lot of sympathy for him.</p>
<p>Lupin snorted. "Albus told me that Cornelius Fudge was supposed to judge the last task," he said. "But he got someone else to fill in on account of his ongoing feud with Dumbledore."</p>
<p>"Who?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I'm not sure," Lupin answered.</p>
<p>"I can't believe he's still sticking to this ridiculous belief that Dumbledore is after his job," Hermione said.</p>
<p>She may have come to question Dumbledore a bit this year, but it was obvious he had no interest being anywhere but Hogwarts.</p>
<p>Lupin sighed. "Cornelius Fudge is someone who likes to be liked and admired. And he's not a fan of difficult decisions. Everything about Sirius and everything about Barty Crouch Jr.—he's been stumbling through all of it because there's no clear, easy win," he explained. "And sometimes it's easier to clutch to the truth you've known then accept there's a different one out there."</p>
<p>"Rita Skeeter dragging his name through the mud probably hasn't helped him gain perspective," Neville added.</p>
<p>"Precisely," Lupin agreed. "The Ministry has always been a target for her, but Fudge is taking this one harder than the rest."</p>
<p>"I'd still like to know how she's doing it," Hermione said.</p>
<p>"Well, there's got to be loads of ways to magically bug someone," Harry responded.</p>
<p>It was an offhand comment, but Hermione froze. Could it really have been that simple all along?</p>
<p>The beetle Neville flicked off her shoulder after the match. The beetle Harry saw in the rose garden. Hagrid's window had been open, and Harry, Lupin, Seamus and Dean had been standing outside where no one would have noticed a beetle.</p>
<p>And just minutes ago, the four of them had been talking about Sirius—an unregistered animagus. If he, Harry's dad and Peter Pettigrew could do it, who's to say there weren't loads more?</p>
<p>Harry was staring at her with concern. "What is it?" he asked.</p>
<p>"I think I may have just figured out something," she said excitedly. "But I have to check to be sure."</p>
<p>She stood quickly, but Harry grabbed her hand. "What is it?" he asked. "I'll come with you."</p>
<p>Certainly, she'd <em>like </em>that… but Lupin was going to take him to see Sirius.</p>
<p>She shook her head. "You've got more important things," she said, nodding her head toward Lupin significantly. "I've got this."</p>
<p>She smiled at him—and noticed Mrs. Weasley eyeing them curiously—and then hurried out of the Great Hall.</p>
<p>She was halfway to the stairs when she realized Neville was on her heels. She looked at him questioningly.</p>
<p>"What?" he asked. "<em>I</em> don't have a visit with Snuffles to go to."</p>
<p>Hermione grinned, and filled Neville in on her theory as they ran toward the library.</p>
<p>It was pretty full—it was exams week after all, so plenty of students wanted to get in some last-minute revising—but Hermione knew exactly where to go from the time she'd researched this last year. The library kept several Ministry registers on hand—including those for people who became an animagus.</p>
<p>While everyone was busy revising, the pair of them did get quite a few looks as they passed by. Neville noticed, looking around, and turned to her with a puzzled expression on his face.</p>
<p>"What are they all staring at?" he asked. "Harry's not even with us."</p>
<p>He had to be joking. Neville was <em>still</em> the topic of conversation amongst just about everyone, thanks to his encounter with Snape. She'd been in Sanctuary with Katie just the other day, and she'd heard Lavender giving Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott a play by play, the two Hufflepuffs listening with rapt attention.</p>
<p>"They're staring at <em>you</em>, Neville," she told him. "You're a bit of a hero now. I imagine most of the students have wanted to attack Professor Snape at some point or another."</p>
<p>Neville looked a bit dazed as Hermione found the register she was looking for.</p>
<p>"But I didn't even know what I was doing," he said. "I just reacted."</p>
<p>Hermione gave him a wry smile. "And now you sound like Harry."</p>
<p>Neville looked a bit blown away by that assessment of his actions and was silent for a moment. Then his demeanor shifted and he seemed to focus particularly on her.</p>
<p>"Speaking of Harry," he said, "I see you made some adjustments to your timeline."</p>
<p>Hermione buried her face in the register, not clearly seeing the words in front of her.</p>
<p>"Well," she said diplomatically, "Harry made some very good points."</p>
<p>Neville eyed her teasingly. "Particularly eloquent last night, was he?" he asked.</p>
<p>"You'd be surprised. He can be quite persuasive," she said as lightly as she could, even as her face grew hot.</p>
<p>She peeked at Neville, saw the amused expression on his face, and they both burst into laughter.</p>
<p>When they settled, he looked at her earnestly. "In any case, like I told Harry last night, I'm happy for you both," he said.</p>
<p>It was a simple act of support, but it was still a strange feeling for Hermione. Harry, Neville, Alicia, Katie, Angelina, Augusta, Viktor and the other champions, Ginny and Luna—she'd never had more support than she did this year.</p>
<p>"Thank you," she said, smiling at her friend, before thumbing through the register for the right information.</p>
<p>"I knew it!" she crowed victoriously. "She's not on the list. So if she <em>is</em> an animagus, she's unregistered."</p>
<p>"So she's been breaking the law," Neville said excitedly. "What do we do?"</p>
<p>Hermione dragged him to Gryffindor Tower where she summoned a couple of empty jars from her trunk and put an unbreakable charm on them.</p>
<p>"Here," she said, handing one to Neville. "She's bound to be spying on Harry tonight. If you see her, catch her."</p>
<p>Rita Skeeter wouldn't be spying on anymore of their conversations—not if Hermione could help it.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Harry met Hermione and Neville in the entrance hall before the evening feast. The second he saw them, he asked her what her theory was, and she told him all about her discovery regarding Rita.</p>
<p>"We can catch her now, Harry," Hermione insisted. "Now that we know what to look for!"</p>
<p>While the last article hadn't worked out so badly for them, it didn't erase everything Rita had done before.</p>
<p>"Did you see Snuffles?" Hermione murmured.</p>
<p>Harry nodded, grinning. "Viktor gave me the opening, even if he didn't know it," he said. "Asked Bill a bunch of questions about his job, and Remus and I were able to sneak away."</p>
<p>"What did Sirius have to say?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Be safe, be cautious, try not to be the hero," Harry shrugged. "What he usually says."</p>
<p>Hermione was thankful for Sirius' cautious advice—her exams and the discovery about Rita had been a distraction, but her stomach was back to being in knots.</p>
<p>Dinner was a much more solemn affair. There were more courses than usual, but Hermione couldn't do much more than pick at them. Harry, she noticed, didn't eat much either.</p>
<p>People kept wandering by to wish Harry luck, and he nodded politely at all of them, except for Luna. She told him to watch out for the nargles, and she received a warm smile, a "Will do," and an insistence that she join them for pudding.</p>
<p>Ludo Bagman was now sitting at the staff table looking exceptionally cheerful, and there was a woman Hermione didn't know: a toad-faced witch in garish pink robes whom Dumbledore introduced as Dolores Umbridge, Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. She seemed unpleasant.</p>
<p>As Hermione tried to force-feed herself potatoes that tasted like chalk, the knots in her stomach grew and all of her limbs felt heavy. This was it—the night they'd been training for. She had every confidence in Harry and his abilities, but she couldn't wait until this blasted tournament was over and they were back in Gryffindor Tower.</p>
<p>Anything could happen tonight…. You-Know-Who could have anything planned. She had a sudden, unbidden vision of Harry sprawled on the floor of Professor Moody's office, desperately grabbing for his wand as Barty Crouch Jr. advanced on him.</p>
<p>A wave of inspiration seized her—how had she not thought of this earlier?—and she tugged on Harry's arm, muttering for him to follow her. Eyes followed them curiously as they exited the Great Hall.</p>
<p>"What is it?" Harry asked, as she pulled him toward the bench in the alcove, the bench where he had initiated a hug with her for the first time.</p>
<p>"Here," she said, pressing her wand into his hand. "I don't recall seeing anything in the rules about carrying more than one wand, but put it in your pocket quick, just in case."</p>
<p>Harry looked perplexed. "I can't take your wand!" he insisted. "It's—<em>you</em> need it. It's your wand."</p>
<p>She already felt empty without it, but it didn't matter.</p>
<p>"You need it more," she argued. "I'm just going to be sitting in the stands with hundreds of wizards and witches, all of whom have wands. You… if you run into a situation like with Crouch…"</p>
<p>She paused, but she could see he was remembering exactly how it had happened. If she hadn't broken free of the Imperius at the right time, he would have been obliviated.</p>
<p>It didn't matter that her wand felt like an essential part of her, that she felt wrong without it. Harry needed every advantage he could get—and, in a way, it was like he was taking her into that maze with him. Like he wouldn't be alone.</p>
<p>"Two wands are better than one," she argued. "And mine worked all right for Neville, so it should work all right for you. Just—please take it. I'll feel loads better if you take it—honestly!"</p>
<p>At her admission, she saw the resolution in his eyes and felt his fingers curl around her wand. She felt a wave of relief that he'd agreed.</p>
<p>"You're brilliant," Harry said gratefully.</p>
<p>She looked around quickly to see if they were alone—they were—and she kissed him. It was swift and chaste, but she thought it got her point across.</p>
<p>"For luck!" she said, smiling at him, feeling herself blush. She was still a bit in awe that kissing him was something she was allowed to just <em>do.</em></p>
<p>Harry grinned, but instead of heading back into the Great Hall, he pulled her into another kiss—this was decidedly <em>not</em> short and swift, and the pixies made short work of the knots in her stomach.</p>
<p>He pulled back, his hand still cupping her face, rubbing circles lightly on her cheek, and grinned mischievously. "Two is better than one, right?" he asked.</p>
<p>She laughed at his joke, leaning into his touch. Honestly, how could he make her laugh at a moment like this?</p>
<p>A half hour later, she was sitting in the stands, Neville on one side of her and Luna on the other. Ron and Ginny were nearby with their family, and Lupin was in front of her. He had the Marauders Map open on his lap, his eyes trained on Harry's name. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Angelina, Alicia and Katie seating themselves behind her. They each threw her sympathetic nods.</p>
<p>The quidditch pitch was filled with the maze—the hedges were 25-feet high—and it all looked foreboding and quite creepy. Hermione shivered.</p>
<p>"I've been talking lately with the Gray Lady," Luna said conversationally. "She's not very forthcoming about her life, but she's usually more open with Ravenclaws."</p>
<p>"Oh?" Hermione asked, not sure what that had to do with Harry and the third task.</p>
<p>"She's more than a thousand years old," Luna continued, "so I thought she might be a good person to speak with about the house elves."</p>
<p>Hermione closed her eyes, self-recrimination filling her. <em>Of course</em>. Helping the house elves <em>had</em> been her idea, hadn't it?</p>
<p>Hermione turned to Luna and smiled at her as best she could given the current situation of Harry facing who-knows-what. "Tomorrow, let's go find her together," Hermione said.</p>
<p>Luna smiled, the dreamy look on her face. "Harry will want to come too, of course."</p>
<p>She said it so matter-of-fact that Hermione couldn't help but feel affection for the girl—in Luna's eyes, there was no way Harry wouldn't be perfectly fine in the morning.</p>
<p>"Yes, he will," Hermione agreed, her voice sounding a bit croaked.</p>
<p>Neville patted her comfortingly on the arm, assuring her the four of them would go together.</p>
<p>She honestly didn't know how she would've gotten through this tournament without him. Neville might appear at first to be shy and clumsy, and a bit of a pushover, but in reality, he was solid as a rock. And with everything that had happened this year, she and Harry had needed that.</p>
<p>She watched as Dumbledore, Karkaroff and Madame Maxime approached the champions before heading to the judges' table—Dumbledore pulled Harry aside, and whatever he was saying, Harry was nodding in response—and then Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Professor Moody and Hagrid took their places around the maze. They'd be patrolling the entire event.</p>
<p>Bagman made his announcements, but Hermione wasn't paying much attention. She was too focused on watching Harry. He was standing straight, his wand arm relaxed. If you didn't know him, you might think him ambivalent about the whole event. But she <em>did</em> know him, and she knew he was just preparing himself, the way he did before a quidditch match.</p>
<p>She let out a forceful breath, and grabbed both Neville and Luna by the hand.</p>
<p>The first whistle blew—it was Harry's turn to enter the maze.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0024"><h2>24. Chapter 24</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry heard the whistle blow—let out a breath—and turned toward the entrance.</p><p>He saw Fleur, Viktor and Cedric out of the corner of his eye—Fleur nodded at him, Cedric smiled hesitantly and Viktor looked as stoic as ever. Of course, Harry knew what he was thinking. Not five minutes ago, Viktor had made it clear that it was his plan to get the cup—for any of them to get the cup—as quickly as possible.</p><p>They'd contemplated the first three champions waiting for the fourth and then traversing the maze together—but Harry couldn't bring himself to let them do that. Unlike Harry, the others had all chosen to be part of this tournament, had wanted to compete—and for all Harry knew, Voldemort's plan had been foiled when Barty Crouch Jr. died and Dumbledore made changes to the third task. They deserved to get to try to win.</p><p>And if Voldemort attacked him somehow—well, at least his friends wouldn't be standing right next to him, putting themselves in danger. They'd helped him enough.</p><p>As he passed over the barrier into the maze, he was ushered into darkness and the sounds of the cheering crowd were silenced.</p><p>"Lumos," Harry said, illuminating the path.</p><p>Mentally, he went through his directions. Sending up red sparks would bring the professors who were patrolling the event. Blue sparks would alert the other champions. And Bagman had said that whomever touched the cup first should send up purple sparks to alert the judges that someone had won.</p><p>"Nonsense," Bagman had mumbled, "that we can't do it the <em>right</em> way<em>, </em>but Dumbledore's paranoia, you know…" And then Bagman had looked at Harry, shifted uncomfortably and moved on.</p><p>Harry didn't know what Dumbledore's paranoia had to do with the Triwizard Cup being imbued with sense memory, not unlike a golden snitch, but Harry suspected this must have been one of the changes to the third task that Dumbledore had insisted on.</p><p>After about fifty yards, he reached a fork in the maze. He gripped his wand in his right hand, patted his left pocket to feel Hermione's wand—he didn't like leaving her without it, but he couldn't deny he felt like he had a bit of backup having it near—and turned left.</p><p>Still there was nothing, and Harry felt a sense of foreboding. Why hadn't he come upon any challenges yet? Or was it the judges' intent to instill a fear of the unknown in the champions first?</p><p>Well, it was working. Harry vastly preferred doing <em>something</em> to waiting for something bad to happen.</p><p>He made a right turn, then a left, and ran straight into a marsh that filled the entire width of the path and extended for 30 yards. He wasn't sure how deep it was, but he suspected trying to walk it would be futile. There were several pieces of what looked like dead wood floating nearby, but Harry had a feeling they were actually dugbogs—magical creatures with very sharp teeth that could do great damage to your ankles.</p><p>"Glacius!" Harry shouted, aiming his wand at the marsh, and the water before him hardened, freezing the dugbogs in place.</p><p>He stepped onto the ice hesitantly, his breath blowing out in a deep white mist, and seeing that it was able to support his weight, slowly made his way across.</p><p>If he'd ever been taught how to skate, he'd have tried transfiguring his trainers into ice skates, but he figured he'd be just as clumsy with them as he was slipping and tripping his way across the ice now.</p><p>He heard the whistle blow again—he wasn't alone in the maze now—and continued edging his way toward the end.</p><p>A few feet from the edge, Harry heard a crack, looked down to see his charm was fading, and took a giant leap, landing on fresh grass just as the ice he had been standing on turned back to marsh.</p><p>He stood, dusting off his robes.</p><p>That hadn't been so bad.</p><p>He continued on—a dementor that he realized was a boggart, hedges full of venomous tentacula that he had to use the severing charm on, a thunderstorm hex that finite incantatem cleared up, an illusion charm that turned the world around him into psychedelic swirls of colors, which he had no choice but to run through since he wasn't quite sure what it was or how to stop it<em>—</em>and as soon as the world righted itself and Harry was back in the darkness of the maze, he somehow tripped over his own feet and fell to the ground.</p><p>Only no, he <em>hadn't </em>tripped. Something had most definitely gotten in his way, but as he looked around, he couldn't see anything.</p><p>He stood, feeling more pressure on his calves, and then fell to the ground again.</p><p>No, there was definitely <em>something</em> there. He looked around—he could see nothing—and searched his brain for invisible creatures.</p><p>Viktor had told him something about warthogs he'd seen in Africa once—tebos, they were called—which had the power of invisibility.</p><p>"Stupefy!" Harry shouted over and over again, twirling in a circle and feeling slightly silly, until one of his spells didn't quite reach the ground and he saw a rustle in the hedge nearby that he felt certain was the knocked-out tebo.</p><p>He heard Fleur stunning something somewhere in the hedges to his left, and he felt more confident knowing that the others were near.</p><p>Harry turned left, then made two more rights—"point me" seemed to be working quite well—and he made another blind turn and then felt two pains in his side as he was snagged on something and lifted into the air.</p><p>It hurt to breathe, and whatever he was caught on seemed increasingly displeased that he was there—as if it were his fault this had happened—shaking him about in the air violently to dislodge him.</p><p>He tossed this way and that, his teeth ratting against each other, unable to get his bearings as the thing treated him like he was a ragdoll.</p><p>Finally, its strategy worked, and Harry was thrown through the air, landing with a thud on the ground yards away. He felt a sharp pain travel through his right side where he'd landed, and looked up to find a menacing creature with two large horns—that must have been what he'd gotten caught on—a hump back and greyish purple skin looming over him.</p><p>A graphorn.</p><p>It eyed him ominously—they were known to be aggressive—and Harry knew he didn't have much time to react. Graphorn hide was even tougher than dragon hide, he remembered, so as it advanced on him, he aimed for its eyes.</p><p>"Petrificus Totalus!" he shouted, and his aim was true, knocking the thing to his side.</p><p>Harry stood up and inspected the damage. The horns had ripped through his robes, but only seemed to scrape along his side, creating long but shallow gashes.</p><p>He winced through the pain, checked that Hermione's wand was safely in his pocket, and continued on, edging around the fallen graphorn.</p><p>But no sooner had he done so than he felt a small, vicelike grip in his left hand. He looked down, surprised to see wide, mournful eyes staring up at him.</p><p>"Winky?" he asked, utterly confused. "What are you doing here?"</p><p>Her eyes filled with tears and she swayed slightly—he supposed she was drunk.</p><p>"Winky is sorry, Harry Potter, but Winky is a good elf. And Winky does what her master says."</p><p>Before he could comprehend what she meant, he felt the familiar, suffocating swirl of apparition and the maze at Hogwarts was no more.</p><hr/><p>Harry had only apparated a handful of times in his life and he hadn't much liked it. But apparating with Winky was surely a thousand times worse.</p><p>He wasn't sure if it was because she was a house elf and house elf magic was different, or because she seemed to be perpetually drunk these days, but Harry's insides felt like they were going to liquefy as the world around him pushed and pulled like he was in the middle of a tornado before he slammed face first into the ground.</p><p>He tasted dirt and felt pain reverberate through his nose—though he <em>didn't</em> hear the familiar crunch of his glasses getting smashed. He moved to get up, searching the grass for his wand, knowing with certainty that this was what Voldemort had been planning, but before he could take in his surroundings, a voice behind him muttered a curse and his wrists were bound tightly against his body, his elbows sticking out at odd angles, and his legs were fastened together, ensnared by ropes, his wand laying uselessly mere inches from his head.</p><p>He was thrust backward, pulled by the unseen man, and tied to a headstone, a long black cloth stuffed in his mouth. As the hand wedged it in as tightly as it could, Harry saw that he was missing a finger—Pettigrew.</p><p>He was in a graveyard. The night was dark and there was an old house on a hillside, but the only other things around were grave markers, a bundle of robes and a cauldron. Winky stood near Harry's wand, rocking back and forth, and, Harry noticed, there was another figure—Barty Crouch Sr.!</p><p>He looked more rumpled than Harry had ever seen him. The Crouch Harry knew was a fastidious man, but this one was unkempt, his clothes wrinkled, his facial hair long and unshaven.</p><p>But there was something else odd about him, too. Despite his appearance, despite the setting, he stood by the cauldron placidly, as if he were standing on the platform, patiently awaiting the next train.</p><p>He was far too calm, far too relaxed. He reminded Harry of Hermione and Neville, casually drinking tea while he fought with Barty Crouch Jr. He was under the Imperius.</p><p>"There's no use for the elf now," a horrible voice called from the robes.</p><p>Harry's scar exploded at the sound. He couldn't see, couldn't think, could feel only excruciating pain, and the only release from the agony was screaming, and yet screaming did nothing to help.</p><p>"Avada Kedavra!" Pettigrew yelled, and Winky fell to the side, her despondent eyes now vacant, but still open and full of tears.</p><p>Harry felt the pain from his scar begin to subside, and a different sort of pain erupted. He had not known Winky long or well, but he'd felt sorry for her. Like Dobby, she'd been forced to do things she did not want by a master who did not seem to care for her—but unlike Dobby, she had not found peace in freedom. And now Winky was dead.</p><p>He took in her empty expression, her slightly open mouth, her dirty clothes, not quite comprehending what had just happened.</p><p>Pettigrew lit a fire beneath the cauldron, a giant snake slithered by Harry's feet and he tried to focus on the present and consider his options.</p><p>He had no portkey, no Winky to apparate with, and unless he could break Mr. Crouch free from his Imperius, no way to escape. If he could get to his wand—or Hermione's—maybe he could summon a broom or a car or the Knight Bus—though he doubted that last one would end particularly well.</p><p>And then he remembered Dumbledore's words right before the task. He'd clapped Harry on the shoulder and said, "If you run into trouble, remember to say my name."</p><p>Harry had nodded though he had no idea what Dumbledore was on about—and hadn't been able to ask with Karkaroff standing right there—and he still didn't know what good it would do, but it was the best plan he had.</p><p>He needed to get to Hermione's wand, get rid of these restraints and say Dumbledore's name.</p><p>Whatever <em>that</em> would do.</p><p>Pettigrew opened the bundle of robes and pulled a grotesque, hairless, scaly, reddish black monstrosity from it. It was humanoid and yet the most inhuman thing Harry had ever seen.</p><p>And then the thing looked at him and his scar burned again, a ghastly, indescribable torment, and all thoughts of Hermione's wand—all thoughts of anything but pain—flew from his head. Through the echoes of his agony, he heard Pettigrew saying words he could barely comprehend, saw him place the thing in the cauldron along with bones he tore from the grave beneath Harry, and then, inconceivably, Pettigrew sliced off his own arm with a dagger.</p><p>Pettigrew's screams mingled with the pain Harry felt in his own head.</p><p>And then Pettigrew advanced on Harry, the dagger clutched in his left hand.</p><p>He was going to die.</p><p>It was the only thought running through Harry's head. He would die in this graveyard, tied to a headstone, far from the people he cared about—far from Hermione, whom he knew would be blaming herself for somehow not anticipating apparition; far from Neville, who had supported Harry through everything this year; far from Sirius and Remus, whom he hadn't even begun to really get to know.</p><p>"B-blood of the enemy… forcibly taken… you will… resurrect your foe," Pettigrew declared, his voice trembling.</p><p>Harry closed his eyes—he could see Hermione, sitting by the lake, the sunset casting shadows and golden light off her hair, could see her turn to smile at him, her brown eyes full of hope and happiness.</p><p>She had given him her wand because she believed in him. He would make it out of this—somehow.</p><p>He would not die broken and bound.</p><p>Pettigrew grabbed at Harry's arm, and Harry tried to struggle but he was tied too tightly. Pettigrew sliced through Harry's robes to his arm, then dropped the dagger to grab a vial. Harry fought against the ropes as hard as he could—all he needed was for it to loosen a little—as Pettigrew tried to still him so he could steal a few drops of Harry's blood.</p><p>Harry twisted and turned, and Pettigrew struggled with him, trying to use his knee to pin Harry down. It was enough—a few drops of blood made their way into his vial.</p><p>Pettigrew returned to the cauldron and Harry tested his bonds—they'd given just a bit.</p><p>It would have to be enough. He reached his hand as far down as it would go, slipping into the pocket of his robe. He could feel the weight of Hermione's wand, could sense that it was close to his struggling fingers, even as he watched, horror-stricken, as a figure began to rise from the cauldron.</p><p>He extended his arm, frantically, desperately hoping to feel the solid edge of Hermione's wand as his fingers clutched only at cloth.</p><p>"Robe me," the voice said, and Pettigrew did as he was told.</p><p>Lord Voldemort stepped out of the cauldron. He had risen again.</p><hr/><p>Harry watched in numb disbelief as Voldemort examined his arms and fingers, testing out his new body. He pulled a wand from his robes, and wordlessly flung Pettigrew against the headstone where Harry lay. Pettigrew crumpled, blubbering, desperately asking Voldemort for something.</p><p>"A moment," Voldemort said silkily, walking toward Barty Crouch Sr., who still stood placidly by the cauldron.</p><p>Voldemort eyed him.</p><p>"<em>This</em> man imprisoned my most loyal followers," he said, shooting a look of contempt at Pettigrew. "<em>This</em> man has waited a long time for his punishment."</p><p>"Nagini, kill," he said, though somehow Harry knew that Voldemort had not quite said it—he had hissed it. He was speaking parseltongue and Harry understood.</p><p>And the snake that had once been slithering at Harry's feet rose up, sinking its fangs into Crouch's neck. He sank to the ground.</p><p>Voldemort smiled, a grotesque sight, and let out a cold, mirthless laugh. He turned to Pettigrew, Crouch seemingly forgotten, and instructed him to hold out his arm. There, burning brightly, was a Dark Mark tattoo.</p><p>"So it's back," Voldemort said, satisfaction evident in his voice. "And now we shall see… now we shall know…"</p><p>He turned once again to look at Crouch. "And now they shall all tell me why they cowered to this man instead of remaining loyal to me."</p><p>Voldemort reached out with his finger—Harry knew that whatever was going to happen, it was going to be bad—and so he grabbed at his robes, bunching them up with his fingers, trying to move Hermione's wand closer to his hand.</p><p>Voldemort's outstretched hand was closing the distance to Pettigrew's trembling arm, but Harry felt solid wood, clutched it like a lifeline, closed his eyes to focus on everything Fleur had taught him about nonverbal casting and thought, as hard as he could, "Relashio!"</p><p>He felt the ropes retreat and leapt up, pulling the gag from his mouth.</p><p>"Stupefy combustum!" Harry yelled, trying one of the more dangerous spells Moody had taught him on Voldemort.</p><p>Voldemort blinked in surprise, then waved his arm to protect himself from Harry's spell like it was nothing.</p><p>"Crucio!" Voldemort yelled, and Harry dove behind a gravestone to avoid it. Before he could catch his breath, the gravestone exploded, stone and rubble pummeling Harry.</p><p>"Petrificus totalus!" Harry yelled, "Stupefy! Exurgeo! Confringo!"</p><p>With some satisfaction, Harry saw that the last spell had made its mark, as Voldemort let out a high-pitched scream.</p><p>"Alb—"</p><p>But Voldemort had sent a nonverbal spell at Harry, which Harry deflected with his own nonverbal Protego.</p><p>They lobbed spells back and forth—Voldemort blasting the cruciatus curse at him, while Harry summoned the remnants of broken headstones to block them.</p><p>And every curse or hex Harry tried, every spell Moody had taught him, Voldemort was ready for.</p><p>"CRUCIO!" Voldemort yelled, and Harry was not quick enough to avoid it this time.</p><p>For what felt like the hundredth time this night, he felt the worst sort of agony, dropping down to the ground, twitching and convulsing in pain. All he wanted was for it to stop.</p><p>And through it all, he heard that high-pitched laugh.</p><p>"So you had another wand?" Voldemort observed as he flicked Hermione's wand away from Harry and cut off the cruciatus curse. "Wormtail—that is what you call him, yes?—was careless not to check. Of course, that's not unusual for him. A sniveling, cowardly thing, isn't he? Of course, even he had his uses."</p><p>Harry looked to his right, blinking through the pain—and saw Winky's vacant eyes. His gaze followed down her arm, her finger—she seemed to be pointing at something, though that was impossible—and he felt a jolt. Following an imaginary line from her finger, his own wand lay mere inches from Harry, alone and forgotten in the thick grass.</p><p>"Come, Wormtail," Voldemort said, "it is time."</p><p>"Master—Master please—"</p><p>After, Wormtail," Voldemort replied. "<em>After.</em>"</p><p>Harry reached out and grabbed his wand, pushing himself to his feet, ignoring the pain.</p><p>Voldemort yelled, "Crucio!" at the same time Harry yelled, "Expelliarmus!"</p><p>He did not know why he chose that spell. Perhaps because he'd already tried so many others, perhaps because he knew he could not hope to kill Voldemort tonight and a wandless Voldemort was a slightly less dangerous Voldemort, perhaps because it was a spell he'd known for years, one that was second nature to him, but in the end, it did not matter.</p><p>Somehow, his spell connected with Voldemort's and their wands were linked by a shimmering golden light. It splintered, criss-crossing around him. Harry panicked, not having a clue what was happening, but Voldemort, he saw, was panicked too, and that made him feel slightly better. Pettigrew watched them in anguished disbelief, while the snake slithered around restlessly.</p><p>"Dumbledore," Harry said wildly. "Albus Dumbledore."</p><p>Nothing happened. Did he have to say Dumbledore's full name? Harry wasn't sure what it was exactly, but he did remember that the man had a ludicrous amount of names and he could not remember a single one except for Brian.</p><p>"Albus Dumbledore," he said again, fervently hoping he did <em>not</em> have to say the full name.</p><p>Harry held tightly to his wand with both hands as a beautiful song erupted from the light surrounding them, almost like that of a phoenix. It was a sound he connected with Dumbledore and Harry wondered for a moment if <em>this</em> had been Dumbledore's plan.</p><p>But no, this seemed to be something else. The song moved through him and Harry felt hope lift, knowing with certainty that he couldn't break the connection.</p><p>Still, he doubted this connection could get him home to Hogwarts.</p><p>"Albus Dumbledore," he said again, wondering if perhaps it was a bit like Beetlejuice and he had to say it three times.</p><p>His wand vibrated, and then light beads appeared in the connection, moving toward Harry. His wand vibrated more forcefully. He concentrated on the beads, concentrated on the connection, willed them away, and somehow, unmistakably, the beads moved toward Voldemort's wand.</p><p>When they connected, the ghost of a smoky yet solid Winky burst out of the tip… and an old man… and a witch… and then… and then…</p><p>The woman whose screams had haunted Harry's nightmares emerged, the woman whose eyes he looked at every day in the mirror.</p><p>She smiled sadly at him, coming closer. "Your father's coming," she said quietly, her voice echoing and distant, and yet nearer than it had ever been. "It will be all right."</p><p>And somehow, coming from her, he believed it.</p><p>"Mum?" he whispered.</p><p>She smiled again, though this time it was admiring. "You're so like your father," she said. "Brave, determined, steadfast."</p><p>She reached out her hand, stopping just before she reached his face—could she even touch him in this form?—he closed his eyes, sure as anything that he could feel her warmth.</p><p>"Personally, I think he's like his mother," a deeper voice said, and Harry opened his eyes to see his father, standing with his mum side by side. "Righteous, compassionate and kind."</p><p>Harry didn't know that he was any of those things, but for the first time he could remember, his parents were speaking to him and he felt he could not breathe.</p><p>His mum looked at Harry regretfully. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry we couldn't be there for you."</p><p>"You were there," Harry replied automatically, his voice raspy. "You're the only reason I lived!"</p><p>"You still deserved better," she answered, gesturing around her. "Better than this."</p><p>Harry grimaced. "Well, I could say the same for you," he replied quietly, shrugging slightly, somehow still uncomfortable with pity, even if it was coming from his own parents.</p><p>"See?" his dad said proudly. "Compassionate like his mum."</p><p>He eyed Harry shrewdly, and then glanced at the headstone where Pettigrew still lay moaning in pain. "And he's much better at picking friends than his dad," he added.</p><p>Harry thought of Hermione and Neville, Ron and Luna, the other champions, but felt a pain rip through his chest—what must they be thinking right now? Hermione… he thought of the hurt and fear in her brown eyes and tried to shake the thoughts away.</p><p>"How do I get back?" he asked desperately. "I don't know how to apparate. Dumbledore said to say his name, but that hasn't done anything!"</p><p>"You won't have to wait much longer," his mum assured him. "And we'll wait with you."</p><p>"Until the very end," James added quietly.</p><p>"I wish… I wish…" Harry trailed off. He didn't know what he wished for—more time? For Dumbledore to never come so he could stay in this moment with his parents forever? That they could somehow come back?</p><p>"We know," his dad said tightly, his voice a little raw. "We wish, too."</p><p>Voldemort screamed in fury, and Harry turned to the side, toward the grave where Pettigrew lay.</p><p>There was Dumbledore as Harry had never seen him before. He understood why this wizard was the only man Voldemort had ever feared—gone were the kindly eyes and the amused smile and the stories about socks, and in its place was a face of hard ferocity, a man who had lived well past 100 moving with the agility of a man in the prime of his life.</p><p>The snake had disappeared, but Pettigrew let out a strangled gasp and then began running.</p><p>Harry turned to look at his parents, regret coursing through him. He wanted nothing more than to have a few more precious moments with them—but they were gone and Sirius was alive. Dumbledore once told him it did not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, and he was right. He could do nothing for his parents, but if he stopped Pettigrew from escaping he could ensure that Sirius had a better life.</p><p>His father observed him with knowing eyes. "Go," he said. "Dumbledore can handle Voldemort. And tell Sirius… well, tell him I think this will be the Pride of Portree's year."</p><p>Harry took one last look at them—savored it—and nodded. He felt more than heard his parents' last words—We love you—before he broke the connection and bolted after Pettigrew.</p><p>He heard shouts behind him but kept his focus on the man running in front of him. Pettigrew must have been too wounded from his amputation to even want to attempt apparition. He looked back and saw Harry, his eyes widening with fear, and then with a whimper he began to shrink.</p><p>The rat was much harder to see in the dark than a man, but Harry wasn't the youngest seeker in a century for nothing. He might have to wear glasses, but a decade of living in a small, dark, cramped cupboard had given him a bit of an extra sense in the dark. He followed the movement, tracked the rat through the gravestones until they reached an empty clearing.</p><p>His target was small, so Harry opted for a spell that could deliver maximum effect.</p><p>"Exurgeo!" he yelled, and a tangle of ropes erupted from his wand, sailing through the air and landing squarely on top of Pettigrew, surrounding him by feet on all sides.</p><p>It was the snare curse Moody had taught him, the one that trapped your prey and then squeezed him like the Devil's Snare.</p><p>Harry stood over Pettigrew, watched as the ropes tangled and twisted around him.</p><p>He could let Pettigrew die. It was what he deserved for betraying Harry's parents, for condemning Sirius to Azkaban and a life on the run.</p><p>And yet…</p><p>It's not that he felt sorry for Pettigrew. But if Dumbledore didn't kill Voldemort in the graveyard tonight, Pettigrew was the best source of information they had.</p><p>And if there's one thing Harry knew, it's that Pettigrew would talk. The man was a self-serving coward who would do anything to save his own skin.</p><p>"Stupefy!" Harry muttered, knocking Pettigrew out before releasing him from his bindings. He reached down, gripping the rat tightly in his left hand, before making his way carefully back toward the graveyard.</p><p>He saw the spectacle before he saw the wizards—a giant rope lasso, which was turned into a giant snake, which was obliterated into a thousand flying swords, which were all sucked up into a twister. Back and forth they fought in a dizzying array of transfiguration and conjuration.</p><p>Harry crouched down behind a gravestone—he wanted to help, but this was magic beyond anything he'd ever learned. He contemplated sneaking around to disarm Voldemort while he was distracted by Dumbledore, but a giant invisible force field held him in place, so he could only watch helplessly as they parried and weaved.</p><p>Voldemort aimed a fireball at Dumbledore—which he deflected with a giant shield made of purple ice—but it was enough time for Voldemort to call the snake to him and make his escape.</p><p>The graveyard was eerily quiet, the only sound the thumping of Harry's heart.</p><p>He stood up from his crouch, walked toward the clearing where Dumbledore stood and surveyed the damage—broken headstones, the still simmering cauldron and the lifeless bodies of Winky and Barty Crouch Sr. Dumbledore stooped down and picked up a wand—Hermione's.</p><p>Dumbledore surveyed him solemnly. "Come, Harry," he said. "Let's go back to Hogwarts."</p><p>Harry nodded, feeling numb, unable to comprehend everything that had happened tonight. But he knew he was going home.</p><hr/><p>After the night in the graveyard, Dumbledore's office was incredibly warm.</p><p>Far too warm, he thought, as he gripped Pettigrew in his hands.</p><p>At least the apparition hadn't been so bad.</p><p>"Harry," Dumbledore said quietly, reaching to grip his hands. Dumbledore's hands were warm, too.</p><p>"Harry," he said more forcefully, "you must give me Pettigrew. If I do not heal him now, he'll die from his wounds—and he'll never be able to help Sirius."</p><p>Well that would quite defeat the point, wouldn't it?</p><p>Harry relinquished the rat to Dumbledore and walked over to the corner where Winky and Crouch now lay. Winky looked so small, her eyes still impossibly large and wide. Harry kneeled down, and gently pushed them closed. She was cold to the touch.</p><p>He heard a couple of swishes behind him and then Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I've alerted the others that you're back safely," he said. "Come sit, Harry."</p><p>"Hermione?"</p><p>"Well, I've alerted Minerva," Dumbledore answered, "but I'm quite certain she'll let Miss Granger know you're here."</p><p>"Sirius?" Harry asked.</p><p>He was here, too.</p><p>"I will tell Sirius," Dumbledore promised, "though perhaps it would be better to get him <em>after</em> Pettigrew has been turned over to Madam Bones."</p><p>Sirius would kill Pettigrew the moment he saw him. He'd only refrained last year for Harry's sake, but once he learned what Pettigrew did tonight…</p><p>A pause and then, "Come sit, Harry."</p><p>Harry did as he was told. In this moment, it felt nice not to have to think. He sank down onto the sofa—it may have been the softest thing he'd ever sat on—and realized tonight he'd been tortured and stabbed and almost gored—the graphorn seemed like a lifetime ago. He might never get up from this sofa.</p><p>"I realize how difficult tonight must have been for you," Dumbledore said, "but I need you to tell me what happened."</p><p>And so Harry did. Calmly, robotically, feeling like it was someone else's voice, he explained exactly what had happened in the graveyard. Dumbledore listened carefully, his face impassive, except for the part where Harry confirmed Pettigrew had taken Harry's blood—Harry was certain he saw a gleam of victory then.</p><p>"And then you showed up," Harry finished. "Was it you who created the force field when I tried to come back?"</p><p>"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I wanted you safe from Voldemort."</p><p>"I wanted to help," Harry said dully.</p><p>They were silent for a moment, evaluating each other, evaluating the night, and then Harry realized—</p><p>"You knew," he said, his voice low, pinning Dumbledore with a stare.</p><p>Dumbledore had told Harry to say his name. Somehow, that had brought Dumbledore to Harry. Dumbledore had known Harry would be taken.</p><p>"I suspected," Dumbledore amended. "Last October, I knew something was wrong when your name came out of the goblet, and I knew—given your dreams last summer, given Bertha Jorkins' disappearance, given the death of a man named Frank Bryce—that it had something to do with Voldemort. But I did not know precisely what Voldemort was planning."</p><p>"When did you figure it out?"</p><p>"I didn't," Dumbledore said. "I wondered, perhaps, if Voldemort was planning to use the tournament to harm you. But when you uncovered Barty Crouch Jr. and told me he had helped you in the first task, how he wanted to obliviate you, I knew that could not be the plan. Had he wanted you dead, it would have been easier to accomplish in either of the first two tasks."</p><p>Harry nodded numbly. If Crouch hadn't helped him with the dragons, he would've been a goner. And in the second task, he'd been alone in the dark, secluded lake for ages before he reached the merpeople. What would it have been to kill him and wait for his body to be discovered?</p><p>"So I knew their plan had to involve the third task," Dumbledore continued. "But what was special about it? The most exceptional moment of the third task was supposed to come at the end. You might know that apparition and portkeys are unavailable at Hogwarts—except, of course, to me."</p><p>"The cup was supposed to be a portkey?" Harry asked, remembering Bagman's ramblings.</p><p>"Yes," Dumbledore nodded. "I theorized <em>that</em> was what Voldemort wanted—to get you out of Hogwarts. So I eliminated the portkey. But Voldemort is resourceful—he always has been—and I feared he might have found a backup plan. So I told you to say my name."</p><p>He pulled a small silver trinket out of his pocket.</p><p>"My deluminator," he said. "When you said my name, I heard it. And when I clicked my deluminator, an apparition light appeared, enabling me to apparate to wherever you were."</p><p>"Right," Harry said because he could not think of what else to say.</p><p>But still. Why hadn't Dumbledore warned him about the possibility? Why had he been kept in the dark?</p><p>He didn't have a chance to ask those questions because Dumbledore changed the subject.</p><p>"And now, Harry, I believe it's time you got some answers," he said.</p><p>He pointed his wand at Pettigrew and the rat transformed into a man. Dumbledore bound him with glowing ropes, and then revived him from Harry's stupefy.</p><p>Pettigrew blinked, taking in his surroundings, terrified.</p><p>"Hello, Peter," Dumbledore said, his voice cold. "It's been a long time."</p><p>"Albus," he whispered. "Albus, you saved me—<em>thank you</em>! He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had me under the Imperius, he—"</p><p>"Surely, Peter, you aren't foolish enough to believe Harry hasn't told me everything that happened last year?" Dumbledore said conversationally, though there was an edge to his voice.</p><p>Pettigrew faltered, clearly scrambling for a new tack. Dumbledore stood and walked toward his desk, picking up a vial.</p><p>"Veritaserum," he explained. "I do believe we should speed this along."</p><p>Pettigrew struggled, but Dumbledore placed a few drops in his mouth, and then his face grew slack, his eyes unfocused.</p><p>And Dumbledore asked him everything—how Crouch Jr. had escaped from Azkaban, how Voldemort and Pettigrew had found each other, how Bertha Jorkins had told them about the tournament and Crouch Jr., how Crouch Sr. had been put under the Imperius Curse and imprisoned in his own home.</p><p>"The Dark Lord, Nagini and I lived for months in that house with Crouch—until one day, he got a visitor, one who could make it past the enchantments we'd put up," Pettigrew explained. "His former house elf, Winky."</p><p>Harry felt his heart lurch.</p><p>"The elf cried and sobbed, begging to be taken back," he continued. "She appeared to be drunk. She didn't see any of the rest of us, and Crouch Sr. was ordered to send her away—but it was lucky she came that day because it put us on our guard. A few hours later, aurors arrived, looking for Crouch. But because we were on alert, we were able to escape before they found us."</p><p>That had been the day Harry had fought Barty Crouch Jr. Something niggled in his brain and then he remembered—that had <em>also</em> been the day they'd taken Luna to meet the house elves and Ginny had suggested to Winky that she should visit Mr. Crouch if she was so sad, much to Hermione's ire.</p><p>Harry felt gutted. It wasn't Ginny's fault—she hadn't known what her words would do, that Winky might actually listen to her suggestion—but if Winky hadn't alerted Voldemort, the aurors might have found him months ago.</p><p>"When we found out Barty Crouch Jr. was dead, the Dark Lord thought his plan was ruined—without someone at Hogwarts to turn the cup into a portkey, all was lost," Pettigrew said. "So he sent me to the train at Easter break. He didn't think you would allow Harry to leave Hogwarts, but if you did, no one knows the Burrow better than me. It would be easy enough for me to snatch him up there.</p><p>"When I arrived at the platform, I was surprised to see Harry," he continued, "but pleased. I could complete the Dark Lord's mission and he wouldn't be displeased with me. But that infernal cat caught sight of me and almost ruined the plan. But then, Harry did not go to the Burrow. He went somewhere else—someplace I couldn't find."</p><p>Pettigrew shuddered. "The Dark Lord was <em>most</em> displeased," he said. "But he had come up with his own solution—Crouch's house elf. They can apparate in and out of Hogwarts at will."</p><p>"The elf did not belong to Crouch anymore," Dumbledore said. "Crouch freed her."</p><p>"Yes, but she <em>wanted</em> to belong to Crouch," Pettigrew said, "and that was a powerful thing. He sent me to her here at Hogwarts—with Harry and the Marauders Map away, it was safe for me to return—and I brought her back to Crouch. He was under the Imperius and ordered her to bring Harry to him. She obeyed."</p><p>Dumbledore surveyed Peter.</p><p>"It's highly unusual for Voldemort to believe others could be as powerful as himself," he said, "particularly creatures like house elves."</p><p>Harry knew that to be true—a younger version of Tom Riddle had once forgotten how powerful phoenix tears could be.</p><p>"The Dark Lord understands house elves have their own magic," Pettigrew countered. "He says he has used them before."</p><p>Dumbledore looked intrigued by this statement, but before he could say more, the door burst open, and a horde of people stepped inside: Professor McGonagall, followed by Professor Moody and Professor Snape, Amos Diggory and Dolores Umbridge, Remus, Neville and—</p><p>Hermione squeezed past all of them, making a beeline for Harry. He focused on her tear-stained face, her wide eyes, as she crashed into him on the sofa. He felt sore in the spots he had been injured, but he didn't much care as she wrapped her arms tightly around him and he buried his face in her hair.</p><p>"You were—the map—you were gone!—I didn't know—and then Professor McGonagall said you were back and they didn't want us to come—wait in the hospital wing—<em>ridiculous</em>," she muttered, squeezing him tighter, as he somehow understood everything she said.</p><p>"Dumbledore's got your wand," he said numbly. "I wouldn't have survived without it."</p><p>Hermione leaned back to search his eyes, her own filling with tears. "Oh, Harry," she whispered, hugging him again, and he lost himself in her solid presence.</p><p>"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice trembling.</p><p>"Better now," he whispered.</p><p>He felt a warm hand on his shoulder—Remus—and then pulled back to survey the scene.</p><p>Everyone was in various states of shock.</p><p>"Merlin's beard, Barty's <em>dead</em>!" Diggory announced, having seen the bodies, while both Remus and Snape were eyeing Pettigrew with similar visages of contempt. Moody had drawn his wand, eyeing all three for trouble.</p><p>"And Pettigrew's alive," Moody said, "<em>exactly</em> as I said."</p><p>"Indeed, Alastor," Dumbledore agreed gravely, "and I'm certain Amelia will be glad to have him in custody."</p><p>"But <em>how</em> did this happen?" Amos asked. "Who killed Barty?"</p><p>"Lord Voldemort," Dumbledore said.</p><p>It was a simple sentence, but it quieted the room. Everyone looked at him in slack-jawed silence. Hermione gripped Harry's hand tighter.</p><p>"Lord Voldemort has returned," Dumbledore announced. "I saw him—fought him—myself tonight."</p><p>Neville was ghastly white. Amos Diggory's eyes bugged out. Professor McGonagall closed her own eyes in resignation. Snape did not seem surprised.</p><p>"Hem, hem."</p><p>Dolores Umbridge made herself known in the silence. Harry had quite forgotten she was there.</p><p>"Seeing as how this is <em>ministry</em> business, I'm going to have to ask you all to leave," she said.</p><p>"Leave my own office?" Dumbledore asked, leveling her with a hard stare.</p><p>"I could take the prisoner elsewhere until the aurors arrive," Umbridge said sweetly, "but surely this must be the most secure room in the castle?"</p><p>"It is," Dumbledore replied.</p><p>"Well, I must call the minister at once," Umbridge said, moving toward Dumbledore's fireplace, "and then the <em>ministry</em> can determine exactly what happened here tonight."</p><p>"What happened," Dumbledore said, "is that Lord Voldemort succeeded in his plan to return to power. <em>Both</em> Harry and I saw him, both of us fought him, and both of us would be willing to testify to that fact. As can Peter Pettigrew.</p><p>"But," Dumbledore added, "<em>of course</em> the ministry wants to do their own interrogation—and you'll be happy to know that I've already alerted Madam Bones so that she can conduct her investigation."</p><p>There was ice in Umbridge's eyes and her voice was steel. "Given all the factors at play, it would be <em>best</em> to bring the minister in on this."</p><p>"Certainly," Dumbledore said amiably, waving his hand toward the fire. "Feel free."</p><p>"It would be best to clear the office," she said sweetly, eyeing Harry. "Surely the boy should be in the hospital wing?"</p><p>Dumbledore did not appear to be ruffled by her. "Quite right," he said. "I shall deposit him there myself at once to be sure he isn't disturbed, and then return to greet the minister and Madam Bones. Remus, you'll come with me and the students."</p><p>"The rest of you may go as well," Umbridge dismissed them.</p><p>"Seeing as I'm the only trained auror here, I'm not leaving the prisoner alone," Moody growled.</p><p>"And Minerva will be staying as well—this is still the headmaster's office, and as deputy headmistress, she'll be acting in my stead," Dumbledore said pleasantly.</p><p>Professor McGonagall nodded grimly.</p><p>"And last I checked, Amos was a member of the ministry—certainly his presence is wanted here," Dumbledore added, while Amos Diggory nodded, still looking a bit overwhelmed by the events of the night.</p><p>Snape merely sneered at Umbridge.</p><p>Professor Dumbledore motioned for Harry and Hermione to follow him, as Neville and Remus left the room. They stood—Harry saw Hermione recognize Winky in the corner—and she jolted.</p><p>"Oh!" she cried, fresh tears spilling over. Harry took her hand in his, wanting to offer her comfort, but just as much needing that connection.</p><p>"It was quick," he said quietly, not knowing what to say, not knowing if anything could console her in this moment. "I don't think she knew what was happening."</p><p>"Come along," Professor Dumbledore said, steering them down the stairs and into the mostly empty corridor.</p><p>"Remus," Dumbledore said, and Remus nodded, telling Harry he'd be along soon, before heading off in the opposite direction of the hospital wing.</p><p>Neville stared at Harry, his eyes wide. And then he hugged Harry—swiftly, and with a pat on the back—it was over before Harry could even think about hugging back.</p><p>"You're all right," Neville said, his voice sounding a bit strangled, and Harry wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself or Harry—probably both.</p><p>The walk to the hospital wing was long, and they were assaulted by a cacophony of sound when they got there—a crowd of people demanding answers from a harried-looking Madam Pomfrey, led by Mrs. Weasley, Ron and Fleur. Bill stood with them, while Viktor stood off to the side, watching the spectacle. Mrs. Diggory had her arms around Cedric and Luna.</p><p>"Harry!" Luna cried, her eyes lighting up as soon as she saw him.</p><p>The others turned. Ron gained back some of his color and Mrs. Weasley gushed, "Oh, Harry!"</p><p>She moved toward him but Professor Dumbledore held out his hand. "Harry has had quite an ordeal tonight," he said. "He should not be disturbed or asked questions—he needs sleep."</p><p>Mrs. Weasley nodded, her face white, before she whirled on the others and demanded they keep quiet.</p><p>Harry looked to Fleur, Viktor and Cedric.</p><p>"What happened with the cup?" he asked.</p><p>He had quite forgotten about the tournament until he saw them.</p><p>"I got it," Viktor said hollowly. "I didn't realize—ve didn't know…"</p><p>Harry nodded. "It's good one of you got it," he said dully, "otherwise they might make us do it all again tomorrow. Magical contracts and all that."</p><p>Professor Dumbledore turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, he's got some injuries that need attending."</p><p>Madam Pomfrey nodded officiously, moving Harry behind a screen as she prodded him, pouring healing potions down his throat. Then she handed him pajamas and he changed.</p><p>As he settled into bed, propped up against the pillows, he looked at the faces of everyone who had come to see him—at some point, Remus had arrived, too.</p><p>"You've seen him, you've seen he's all right, now let him get his sleep," Madam Pomfrey insisted, shooing them all. The other champions all said good night, relief evident on their faces that he was back, as Mrs. Diggory herded them out. Luna smiled sadly at him, squeezing his hand, before following them.</p><p>Neville and Hermione took seats on the bed on one side of Harry, sitting side by side.</p><p>"Mate," Ron said, his face pale, his voice unsure. He did not say anything else—he didn't know what to say.</p><p>"You should get some sleep," Mrs. Weasley ordered, wheeling on Madam Pomfrey.</p><p>"Don't you have a sleeping draught for him?" she demanded.</p><p>She <em>always</em> had a sleeping draught for him, Harry thought. And sure enough, Madam Pomfrey had a potion in hand, which Mrs. Weasley took and walked over to him.</p><p>She tenderly brushed some of his hair back from his face, but Harry felt movement on his other side.</p><p>He turned, and suddenly, Sirius was there, slipping off an invisibility cloak.</p><p>"One of Moody's," he explained, and Harry understood Remus' errand.</p><p>Mrs. Weasley let out a strangled sort of noise—she knew Sirius was innocent, but it still must have been a shock for her.</p><p>"It's all right," Dumbledore said, "Peter Pettigrew is in custody upstairs."</p><p>Ron let out a garbled sort of noise and then whooped.</p><p>"He's back, Sirius," Harry whispered.</p><p>"I know," Sirius said gravely. "Remus told me. But we can talk about it later."</p><p>Sirius nodded toward Mrs. Weasley and told Harry, "Take your potion."</p><p>Harry drank it. Mrs. Weasley moved to take his glasses, but Harry turned back toward Sirius, reaching out for something, something he couldn't ever remember having before.</p><p>"Sirius—"</p><p>"I know," Sirius whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed, and putting his arm around Harry. "You should sleep now."</p><p>And the last thing Harry remembered saying before oblivion took him was, "Dad says he thinks this is the Pride of Portree's year…"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0025"><h2>25. Chapter 25</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione sat cross-legged on the bed in the hospital wing, her back propped against the pillows. Harry slept in the bed next to her, still curled into Sirius' side.</p>
<p>She could practically feel the restlessness rolling off Sirius—Pettigrew, a man he had escaped prison to kill, was three floors above them in this castle, and she knew the only thing keeping him from finishing his task was the fact that Harry had reached for him and wanted him here.</p>
<p>He looked wholly uncomfortable in the hospital wing, and yet he also looked wholly unwilling to move from his godson.</p>
<p>She couldn't blame him on either count. He'd spent the past few months in a cave and was who-knows-where before that, and while his cave was furnished, she supposed it had been a long time since he'd been anywhere as normal and mundane as the hospital wing, with its white aesthetic, clean sheets and comfy mattresses.</p>
<p>And if Harry were clutching to her the way he was clutching to Sirius, she wouldn't want to move either.</p>
<p>Molly was pacing back and forth, wringing her hands, while Bill and Ron talked quietly in the chairs next to an empty bed. Lupin was in conversation with Madam Pomfrey.</p>
<p>Neville sat across from Hermione, looking as lost in his thoughts as she was.</p>
<p>It had been a horrific night.</p>
<p>First, there'd been the moment when Harry's name had disappeared from the map. She'd felt her stomach lurch and her brain go fuzzy, like she couldn't quite see or hear properly. Like she couldn't even move.</p>
<p>Lupin could though, and he raced to the judges' table to alert Professor Dumbledore. But before they could figure out what had happened, there had been the purple sparks—someone had won—and the professors who were patrolling the maze had moved in to pull the champions out.</p>
<p>How they'd somehow missed Harry disappearing, she'd never understand.</p>
<p>She remembered moving toward the judges' table, clutching Neville—she still wasn't certain if he'd pulled her up and dragged her there, or if she'd done it for him, or if they'd somehow managed to take turns pulling the other, pushing themselves past their worry for Harry—but then she was at the judges' table, listening as Dumbledore questioned the other champions.</p>
<p>Fleur had been the last to hear Harry—he'd immobilized something and then passed out of earshot.</p>
<p>Professor Moody and Professor McGonagall found the fallen graphorn, found the blood on its horns, and Hermione tried very hard not to think about where that could have connected with Harry, but there were no other signs of him—no signs of struggle, no signs of a fight with anything besides the graphorn. He was just gone.</p>
<p>It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, it could have been days—however long it was, it felt like an eternal agony. She'd dedicated this entire year to keeping Harry safe and she had failed miserably.</p>
<p>As she stood out there on that cold quidditch pitch, she could feel Neville's arm around her shoulders, could hear Remus offering reassuring words, but it all felt hollow, and all she felt was numb. She had failed.</p>
<p>She had failed Harry.</p>
<p>All she had ever wanted to do was keep him safe, but she hadn't been enough.</p>
<p>She'd gotten lost in her worst thoughts, and then felt absentmindedly for her wand, before she remembered she didn't have it. It was with Harry. Harry, who always figured out a way, Harry, who always knew exactly what to do when things seemed desperate—and then, like a beacon, she heard his voice. They all did.</p>
<p>"Dumbledore. Albus Dumbledore."</p>
<p>And then Dumbledore was gone.</p>
<p>"It'll be all right," Mrs. Weasley declared, her face white. "Dumbledore's with him now, so he'll be safe."</p>
<p>Her voice was shaking, but she seemed so sure.</p>
<p>And then there was more waiting. Interminable waiting.</p>
<p>The night grew colder, and there was a buzzing from the crowd, most of whom were still sitting in the stands. Ludo Bagman disappeared, and then so did Karkaroff.</p>
<p>Viktor said something to her at some point—his expression pained, his eyes haunted. He'd believed Harry from the moment they'd told the other champions about Barty Crouch Jr. He'd also been determined to see nothing bad happen this night.</p>
<p>And then Professor McGonagall had gotten the message from Professor Dumbledore—Harry was back.</p>
<p>Relief replaced the terror she felt and for the first time that night, she let the tears flow. Harry was safe.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall <em>tried</em> to make them all go to the hospital wing instead of to Harry. The other champions and Luna followed her orders, and Mrs. Weasley told Fred, George and Ginny in no uncertain terms to return to Gryffindor Tower—there'd be enough of a crowd in the hospital wing—and then tried to herd Hermione along with her, Bill and Ron, but Hermione had jerked out of her reach.</p>
<p>Mrs. Weasley had looked at her, shock evident on her face.</p>
<p>"Hermione, don't you want to see Harry?"</p>
<p>Of course she did, but there was no force on this earth that could make her sit around the hospital wing waiting for Harry to turn up when he was somewhere in the castle.</p>
<p>Wordlessly, she'd turned from Mrs. Weasley, looking for something, anything—she didn't know what, but she found it in Lupin.</p>
<p>He was staring at the map again, white-faced, his eyes hard.</p>
<p>"Let's go," he said, his voice strangely choked, stalking after Professor McGonagall and all of the other teachers and ministry officials who'd surrounded her. Hermione and Neville quickly complied, practically running to catch up with Remus' quick strides.</p>
<p>There was no conceivable way Hermione would have accepted going to the hospital wing to just <em>wait</em> but she was glad to have an adult in her corner who understood that she had to see Harry now.</p>
<p>He looked awful. His clothes were ripped and bloody, his face dirty, but the worst were his eyes—detached and lost and just… she'd run to him and hugged him, and the second she'd felt his arms around her and his breath tickling her neck and her hair, she'd felt right for the first time all night.</p>
<p>She hadn't even noticed the reason for Lupin's agitation when he looked at the map—Pettigrew—or the two bodies in the corner. All she'd seen was Harry.</p>
<p>But then she <em>had</em> seen Pettigrew. And then Dumbledore told them You-Know-Who was back. Harry had fought him—and not him as a wraith or a memory from a book, but as a wizard at full power.</p>
<p>Even as she'd felt the panic and the fear at what all this meant for their future, she couldn't help but marvel at Harry's talent—he'd fought You-Know-Who and lived… he really was a great wizard.</p>
<p>But now Harry was asleep, Dumbledore was gone and everyone else was left with questions. Remus had filled the others in on what they'd learned in Dumbledore's office, but no one knew much more than that.</p>
<p>Except Hermione had a sinking feeling she knew exactly how Harry was taken from the maze. There was no other reason for Winky to be there. And now she was dead.</p>
<p>Hermione had failed her, too.</p>
<p>She sighed, glancing back at Harry and Sirius—the way Sirius was watching his godson, the intensity of the love and affection he clearly felt for Harry made her look away, like she had spied on something private, something special for just the two of them… a proper family.</p>
<p>Mrs. Weasley was still pacing, but from the disconcerted look on her face, she had been watching them, too.</p>
<p>Hermione felt the bed springs beneath her shift as a restless Neville got up to pace over to the open window, gulping in fresh air.</p>
<p>It was going to be a long night.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Hermione heard the harsh whispers before she saw anything, and realized she had dozed off, still half-sitting in the bed. She opened her eyes—someone had thrown a blanket over her—and saw Remus, Madam Pomfrey and Mrs. Weasley conferring furiously.</p>
<p>"He's going to wake up the whole castle!" Mrs. Weasley whisper screamed.</p>
<p>"Don't they know this is a <em>hospital wing?</em>" Madam Pomfrey offered, affronted.</p>
<p>There was a loud clamoring and a slamming door, and then Fudge swept into the hospital wing, followed by Dolores Umbridge, Amelia Bones, Amos Diggory, Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape.</p>
<p>"Where's Dumbledore?" Fudge demanded, wheeling on Madam Pomfrey and Remus.</p>
<p>Madam Pomfrey looked perplexed. "He's not here," she said. "He was going to go meet you. But—"</p>
<p>"Well, he <em>didn't</em> come meet us, and I want to know what he's up to!" Fudge shouted, whirling around, looking for someone else to have answers.</p>
<p>"Keep your voice <em>down</em>!" Madam Pomfrey admonished. "This is a hospital wing and patients are trying to sleep."</p>
<p>But Fudge's eyes had settled on Sirius, who had risen from the bedside, half-standing in front of Harry.</p>
<p>Fudge raised a stubby finger at Sirius, his face blustery. "It's Sirius Black!" he yelled. "Arrest him!"</p>
<p>Hermione felt the alarm rise through her. Remus and Professor McGonagall glanced to each other, communicating something Hermione didn't understand, but which she believed to mean they'd help Sirius escape if need be.</p>
<p>Snape's eyes glittered meanly, as if he'd like to do nothing more than send Sirius back to Azkaban.</p>
<p>Madam Bones, however, raised one eyebrow.</p>
<p>"I will do no such thing, Minister," she said, "given what we've just heard."</p>
<p>"The man is <em>still</em> a fugitive, Amelia," Umbridge said in a cloying voice. "Surely, he should be apprehended until the Wizengamot decides what to do."</p>
<p>Amelia shot her an incredulous look. "Considering we've <em>just </em>seen Peter Pettigrew alive and well, <em>and</em> heard him admit to a plot to kidnap Harry Potter, <em>and </em>back up what Alastor Moody said about his own kidnapping—not to mention the tattoo of the dark mark <em>on his arm</em>—I surely think <em>not</em>," she replied, her distaste evident.</p>
<p>Hermione looked to Sirius and Harry. Sirius' face was blank, but to her surprise, Harry was now awake and listening to every word.</p>
<p>Her heart leapt at the hope in his eyes.</p>
<p>"Tell me, Mr. Black, do you have any tattoos on your arms?"</p>
<p>Sirius blinked, perhaps because he was not used to being called Mr. Black, perhaps because Madam Bones' question seemed so unusual, but with Harry prodding along to help, he raised his sleeves to show his bare forearms.</p>
<p>"Exactly as I thought," Madam Bones said, nodding to Harry.</p>
<p>"But that doesn't mean—"</p>
<p>"This man spent more than a decade in Azkaban for a crime he did not commit," Bones snapped. "My team is making arrangements to call the Wizengamot in session tomorrow to rectify this mistake."</p>
<p>She turned to Sirius. "Mr. Black," she said, "I know this must be small comfort to you considering all you've been through, but on behalf of this administration and the last, I apologize for what you've had to endure these past 13 years."</p>
<p>She gave him a considering glance and then added, "If I were you, I'd sue."</p>
<p>Hermione half expected Sirius to laugh, but he looked utterly perplexed—at her tone, at the words he was hearing, at the idea that his life wouldn't be a relentless misery for once.</p>
<p>"Sirius," Harry said, and that single word seemed to break through to him, because Sirius' face cleared and he looked down at Harry. Their eyes met, and the emotion they both felt was evident as they broke out into hesitant smiles.</p>
<p>Harry had never had a home or a family, and Sirius had gotten so used to hopelessness, but now they could somehow muddle through together. This had been a truly awful night but at least two good things had come out of it—Sirius was free and Harry would never have to go back to the Dursleys again.</p>
<p>"Well, he can't just roam around freely until the Wizengamot meets," Fudge protested.</p>
<p>"Why not?" Professor McGonagall asked dryly. "He's been roaming around for the past two years, hasn't he?"</p>
<p>"Well—"</p>
<p>"Besides," Professor McGonagall continued, "I'm quite certain that Albus will be happy to act as Sirius Black's custodian until the Wizengamot can meet tomorrow."</p>
<p>"As Chief Warlock, he's imminently capable of that role," Amelia Bones agreed.</p>
<p>Fudge seemed to remember his original ire. "Yes, and <em>where</em> is Dumbledore exactly?" he asked irritably, looking around again.</p>
<p>"I'm right here," Dumbledore's voice called out calmly from the doorway, and the crowd parted to allow him in. He was followed by the blonde man who had questioned Hermione along with Madam Bones at her hearing.</p>
<p>Dumbledore surveyed the crowd. "And Minerva is quite right, of course," he said. "I'm happy to take responsibility for Sirius and ensure he arrives at his Wizengamot hearing. Amelia, I trust you found your conversation with Peter Pettigrew enlightening?"</p>
<p>"Not quite," Professor McGonagall sniped.</p>
<p>Dumbledore looked to her, alarmed. "What happened?" he demanded. "And where is Alastor?"</p>
<p>"Moody is with Shacklebolt and Turner, helping to transfer Pettigrew," Bones explained. "Seems he didn't think the job would be done properly if not for him."</p>
<p>"And why shouldn't he think that," Professor McGonagall shouted, pointing a shaky finger at Fudge and Umbridge, "after what these two tried to pull!"</p>
<p>"Minerva?" Dumbledore questioned.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall shot Fudge and Umbridge an angry, venomous look. "These two had the genius idea to invite a dementor up to your office—"</p>
<p>"As Minister, it's <em>my </em>decision if I wish to bring protection along when questioning a dangerous criminal for—"</p>
<p>"The moment that thing came in the room, it swooped down on Pettigrew and—"</p>
<p>"Was he kissed?" Dumbledore asked sharply.</p>
<p>Professor McGonagall's mouth was set in a grim line. "No," she said, "but only because Alastor was too quick for it."</p>
<p>Constant vigilance, Hermione thought, silently grateful for their paranoid professor.</p>
<p>"The situation was well in hand," Fudge protested grumpily.</p>
<p>Professor Dumbledore looked to Amelia Bones, who shook her head apologetically.</p>
<p>"I didn't arrive until after the questioning," she explained, "but Moody had the dementor situation well-sorted."</p>
<p>"In any case," Snape added, his voice low, looking at Dumbledore, "when the Minister questioned Pettigrew, he told quite a different tale than you told us. The veritaserum had already lost its effects, and the Minister would not allow me to administer more."</p>
<p>"Why not?" Harry piped up, outraged.</p>
<p>Umbridge gave him a condescending smile. "Veritaserum is not admissible in the court of law," she said, "so any evidence gathered with its use is void."</p>
<p>"Besides," Amelia added, her voice heavy, "wizards can learn to throw off the effects of veritaserum—it's one of the first things those in Voldemort's circle learn how to do."</p>
<p>She shot a contemplative glance at Snape as she said that.</p>
<p>"What did Pettigrew tell you?" Dumbledore asked evenly.</p>
<p>"Well, he admitted to being a Death Eater," Fudge said.</p>
<p>"He had to," Amos Diggory piped up, with an awkward glance at Snape, "after your Potions professor practically ripped off Pettigrew's arm to show us his tattoo."</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. She'd noticed Snape had looked at Pettigrew venomously earlier, but she had assumed that had to do with his age-old grudge against the marauders. But the look in his eye now, even just talking about Pettigrew—this felt like something more.</p>
<p>Fudge cleared his throat. "Pettigrew admitted he worked with Barty Crouch Jr. to kidnap Alastor Moody and Harry Potter. The pair of them cooked up a whole plot to get revenge on the boy," he said.</p>
<p>"And Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked.</p>
<p>Fudge blanched. "What about him?"</p>
<p>"What did Pettigrew tell you about Voldemort's return?" Dumbledore asked.</p>
<p>"Hem, hem," Umbridge interrupted. "As I informed you, Minister, Dumbledore and Potter have come up with this…<em>story</em>… about You-Know-Who's return. No doubt part of Dumbledore's plot against you."</p>
<p>Fudge looked satisfied with that answer, and shot Dumbledore a hard look.</p>
<p>"Now, see here, Dumbledore,—"</p>
<p>"You're honestly going to take the word of a traitorous weasel like Pettigrew over Albus Dumbledore?" Sirius snapped, his tone menacing, his eyes glittering.</p>
<p>Fudge puffed up his chest. "Well, it's that weasel's words that are getting you out of trouble," he shot back, "unless you're saying he's lying about that?"</p>
<p>Sirius narrowed his eyes at Fudge, and from the way Fudge's eyes widened and he stepped back, he was clearly still afraid of the myth that was Sirius Black.</p>
<p>"Besides," Fudge added, "why would Pettigrew tell us half the truth and then lie about the rest?"</p>
<p>"Perhaps because that's what Voldemort wanted him to do," Dumbledore reasoned.</p>
<p>On the surface, his tone seemed amiable, like this was an intellectual discussion in the classroom, but coupled with his self-assured stance and the commanding way he was looking at Fudge, it was clear he was anything but deadly serious.</p>
<p>"Voldemort will want to delay any action that we might take against him—and what better way to do that then to convince the Minister for Magic that he's not back?" Dumbledore asked.</p>
<p>At Fudge's thunderstruck look, Dumbledore added, "But I assure you, Cornelius, he <em>is</em> back."</p>
<p>Dumbledore relayed the whole story—the potion that returned Voldemort to his body, Harry and Dumbledore dueling him, how Voldemort fled.</p>
<p>Fudge's face was white and the room was filled with silence.</p>
<p>A loud crash behind her jolted Hermione—and everyone—as they swiveled toward the window, which was now closed.</p>
<p>"Sorry," Neville muttered, red-faced. "Hand slipped. You, er, know how clumsy I am."</p>
<p>Hermione eyed him closely. Something didn't seem right.</p>
<p>When everyone else turned away, he grinned at her, holding up the jar she'd given him earlier—he had caught Rita Skeeter!</p>
<p>The jolt seemed to awaken Fudge who just kept muttering, "Well, that's just… preposterous. You-Know-Who back? It's ridiculous, it's insane, it's…"</p>
<p>He looked helplessly toward Umbridge.</p>
<p>"With only the word of the man who's trying to steal the Minister's job and"—she looked to Harry—"his puppet—"</p>
<p>Harry looked outraged, but it was Dumbledore who spoke first.</p>
<p>"If I wanted your job, I would have had it decades ago, Cornelius," Dumbledore interrupted, his eyes hard, his voice full of conviction. He was a powerful force, and Hermione could not look away—no one could.</p>
<p>"Now is not the time for petty displays. Lord Voldemort has returned, and you can either become known as the most courageous Minister who ever lived or the one who did nothing to stop his second rise. You must send envoys to the giants, you must remove the dementors from Azkaban—"</p>
<p>"Are you mad?" Fudge screeched. "I'll be run out of office if I do that!"</p>
<p>"And what do you think they'll do if you allow Voldemort to regain support unchecked?" Dumbledore asked.</p>
<p>"There's no proof other than Dumbledore's word," Umbridge interrupted, sneering when she said Dumbledore's name.</p>
<p>"I showed you your proof on Pettigrew's arm," Snape snapped, pushing back his sleeve and showing a very large tattoo of the dark mark practically pulsating on his skin. "It's been getting clearer all year—it's why Karkaroff turned tail and ran tonight."</p>
<p>"We're not going to throw the wizarding world into chaos over a <em>tattoo</em>," Umbridge sniffed.</p>
<p>"It's not just a tattoo!" Harry snarled. "It's what Professor Dumbledore and I saw too! I saw him, I fought him! I—"</p>
<p>Umbridge raised her eyebrow incredulously. "You expect us to believe a 14-year-old boy <em>dueled</em> You-Know-Who and survived?" she asked condescendingly.</p>
<p>"Why not?" Hermione asked scathingly. "You've all got no problem believing he survived You-Know-Who when he was <em>one</em>."</p>
<p>Umbridge stared at Hermione like she was something stuck to the bottom of her shoe, but the blonde man who had walked in with Dumbledore cleared his throat.</p>
<p>"Yes, Baker?" Amelia Bones asked.</p>
<p>He looked around nervously.</p>
<p>"As you instructed, my team and I met Albus Dumbledore at the graveyard where this all took place," he said. "There were obvious signs of a fight, as well as a cauldron still filled with the remnants of a potion. We've taken it back to the Ministry to study it, but there was the distinct scent of dittany and lavender."</p>
<p>Snape looked up sharply. "Dittany and lavender picked at the summer solstice are basic ingredients in most rejuvenation potions," he said, shooting an acidic look at Umbridge.</p>
<p>Dumbledore fixed Fudge with a hard stare. "Lord Voldemort has returned," he repeated. "There is no time for inaction, no place for delay. If you will not do what needs to be done, then we must have a parting of the ways—and <em>I</em> will do what needs to be done."</p>
<p>Fudge's eyes widened. "Is that a threat?" he stuttered.</p>
<p>"The only person I threaten is Voldemort," Dumbledore answered, "and I would much rather work with you than against you on that."</p>
<p>Fudge gaped, opening and closing his mouth. "He just can't be…"</p>
<p>Hermione was reminded of Remus' words just earlier that day—how could it possibly have been the same day? Fudge would rather clutch to a familiar truth than embrace a new one. He'd already relented enough to believe in Sirius' innocence—but You-Know-Who's return seemed to be too much for him.</p>
<p>With one last lost look at Dumbledore, Fudge muttered, "Let's go," to Umbridge and left.</p>
<p>Everyone else was silent. Hermione surveyed Harry, who looked lost and defeated. She slid off her bed and onto his, reaching for his hand.</p>
<p>At her touch, he looked up, surprised, as if he hadn't expected anyone to be there.</p>
<p>"Amelia—" Dumbledore started to say, but she held up her hands and interrupted him.</p>
<p>"I know," she said, her voice resigned. "Let's see what happens when <em>I</em> interrogate Pettigrew. I may not be able to use veritaserum, but I know a bit more about interrogation than a former obliviator and a bureaucrat."</p>
<p>Amelia Bones moved closer to Dumbledore. "He might still come around, Albus," she whispered urgently. "Cornelius can be stubborn, but he's no Voldemort supporter. Give my team time to study the evidence from the graveyard, give me time to get a better confession out of Pettigrew—all isn't lost."</p>
<p>"Even so, Amelia, we cannot wait for Cornelius to have his hand held," he said.</p>
<p>Madam Bones nodded.</p>
<p>"I trust you'll—"</p>
<p>Madam Bones nodded again, and then she and Baker swept out of the room.</p>
<p>Dumbledore looked around. "Amos?" he asked.</p>
<p>Amos Diggory's face was red, his eyes still as shell-shocked as they'd been when he'd seen Barty Crouch Sr. dead in Dumbledore's office.</p>
<p>Hermione had never much liked him—his attitude toward Harry when they'd taken that portkey together had been enough to put her off him—but he was friends with Alastor Moody and Arthur Weasley. That had to count for something.</p>
<p>"Whatever you need, Albus," he said, and he and Molly—on Arthur's behalf—agreed to start looping in as many witches and wizards at the Ministry as they could.</p>
<p>"I can talk to the goblins," Bill added, "though they may take awhile."</p>
<p>Mrs. Weasley, tears in her eyes, wrapped Harry up in one last hug. She seemed reluctant to leave him, but Dumbledore had given her a task—and with one last considering glance at Sirius, she motioned for her sons to follow her and Amos out.</p>
<p>"I want to stay!" Ron practically shouted, looking to Harry. "I've got to stay with—"</p>
<p>"You can see Harry tomorrow!" Mrs. Weasley said forcefully. "He needs his rest anyway, and we've got to go back to Gryffindor Tower, see your siblings and—"</p>
<p>"What for?" Ron asked miserably, glancing again toward the bed where Harry, Hermione and Sirius were.</p>
<p>The tears had started leaking down Mrs. Weasley's face as she stared at Ron, red-faced. "Because You-Know-Who has returned and I'd like a moment with my children!" she cried.</p>
<p>Ron looked remorseful. Charlie and Percy weren't in the castle, but the rest of the Weasley kids were, and it wasn't unreasonable for Mrs. Weasley to want them all together for a moment.</p>
<p>Bill placed his arm on Ron's shoulder, as if to lead him out, but Ron had already resigned himself to it.</p>
<p>"Good night," Ron said, clearly not wanting to leave. But with a promise not to let on to the Gryffindors exactly what had happened here tonight until Dumbledore had a chance to address it, the Weasleys were gone.</p>
<p>Remus left to alert the old crowd—the Order of the Phoenix, she presumed—and Snape left for some unsaid task. Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore soon followed, whispering furiously. Madam Pomfrey busied herself with potions.</p>
<p>Neville hovered by the window—Hermione assumed he didn't want Rita to overhear Harry's next words—leaving Harry, Hermione and Sirius alone around Harry's bed.</p>
<p>"It's all my fault," Harry whispered.</p>
<p>"What?" Hermione asked, looking at him sharply.</p>
<p>"I knew," Harry said. "When I captured Pettigrew, I could've killed him, could've kept him from talking, but I thought… I thought he'd want to save his own skin. I thought he'd talk."</p>
<p>Harry let out a bitter laugh. "And he did," he said. "He lied to save his own skin. He said what he knew Fudge wanted to hear, what Voldemort wanted him to say—that Voldemort wasn't back. I should've known better."</p>
<p>He looked so lost, so angry with himself, and Hermione just wanted to make him feel better.</p>
<p>"You did the right thing, Harry," Hermione insisted. "If Pettigrew hadn't been alive, Fudge probably would've tried to make it sound like Sirius was in on it too. At least this way, Pettigrew cleared Sirius."</p>
<p>"She's right," Sirius added, his voice gravelly. "You heard Minerva. The dementor went straight for Pettigrew—likely on orders. Umbridge and Fudge didn't <em>want</em> him to talk. Umbridge knew what Dumbledore had said about Voldemort. She was looking to keep him from talking."</p>
<p>"But why?"</p>
<p>Sirius looked troubled. "I don't know what her motives are," he said, "but Fudge's are clear. Voldemort's return is a problem that requires a competent, decisive leader—and that's not him. Better to pretend it didn't happen, to pretend this is all some plot that Dumbledore hatched."</p>
<p>"Do you think Fudge will try to go easy on him?" Harry asked. "Because Pettigrew said what he wanted?"</p>
<p>"If he does, it won't be for long," Sirius said, his tone menacing.</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione exchanged a fearful glance.</p>
<p>"You're not… going to go breaking <em>into</em> Azkaban, are you?" Harry asked, clearly torn. He wanted justice too, but not at the expense of Sirius.</p>
<p>Thirteen years ago, Sirius had left Harry with Hagrid to go chasing revenge against Peter—and Harry's life had been all the worse for it.</p>
<p>Sirius looked down at Harry again, and the darkness in his eyes cleared a little. He ran a hand down the back of Harry's head, patting his shoulder.</p>
<p>"I promise I'll be around this time," he said, his voice gruff.</p>
<p>Harry nodded, and glanced down, a small smile on his face.</p>
<p>They both looked a little uncomfortable, so Hermione cleared her throat.</p>
<p>"So what happens now?" she asked. "Can the Ministry possibly just <em>ignore</em> this?"</p>
<p>Sirius considered that. "The lengths the Ministry will go through to ignore things are immeasurable," he said, "but we've got Dumbledore's word that he saw Voldemort—and Dumbledore's word will go a long way with a lot of wizards. You saw Bones tonight—she believed him, and so did Amos Diggory. The truth will come out eventually."</p>
<p>The door to the hospital wing opened, and Dumbledore appeared once again.</p>
<p>"Sirius? A word?" he asked, gesturing for Sirius to follow him out.</p>
<p>Sirius gripped Harry's shoulder one last time, promising to return as quickly as he could, and then he left.</p>
<p>Madam Pomfrey surveyed the three of them. She looked tired.</p>
<p>"You really should take another sleeping draught," she said, placing one by Harry's bedside.</p>
<p>With a rueful grin, she added, "But I know you won't. I'll give you until Sirius Black returns—and then your friends have to leave and you'll have to take your potion."</p>
<p>Harry nodded.</p>
<p>Madam Pomfrey sighed, sliding her hands over her face. "I'm going to go have a spot of tea."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione glanced at each other as she went into her office and closed the door. They'd been in the hospital wing enough times to know what that meant. Madam Pomfrey was about to doze off.</p>
<p>Harry drummed his fingers on his sheet nervously. Hermione pulled her knees up, hugging her legs to her chest.</p>
<p>"What are you thinking?" she asked, eyeing him carefully.</p>
<p>"Eventually isn't good enough," Harry practically growled. "That'll give Voldemort plenty of time… to… to… well I don't know exactly <em>what</em>, but time to do anything isn't good."</p>
<p>"Dumbledore's trying to get the word out," Hermione pointed out. "The Weasleys and the Diggorys and Madam Bones are well connected."</p>
<p>"Still," Harry said, "there's got to be a better way to make everyone believe us <em>now</em>. If enough people believe Voldemort's back—won't that force Fudge to do something?"</p>
<p>Hermione's stomach lurched, and two memories drifted to the forefront of her mind: The first was Augusta Longbottom, perched on an armchair in the Ministry, telling her that it wasn't enough to just be smart—you had to know how to use it. The second was Remus Lupin in a dimly lit cave, explaining that sometimes in war you had to work with people who did despicable things.</p>
<p>"Harry," she said slowly, feeling the weight of her plan, "I think I know exactly how we can do that."</p>
<p>She bit her lip, glancing significantly in Neville's direction. Harry followed her gaze.</p>
<p>"Neville caught Rita," she whispered.</p>
<p>She watched Harry's eyes widen, as her meaning became clearer.</p>
<p>He had looked numb when they first arrived in the hospital wing, and defeated when they were discussing Pettigrew. But now, knowing that there was something he could do, some way that he could help, it was like he had gotten a second wind. He grinned.</p>
<hr/>
<p>With a quick glance toward Madam Pomfrey's office, Hermione motioned Neville over and pulled the privacy screen around Harry's bed. It wouldn't keep anyone from overhearing them, but it would at least hide Rita Skeeter from view.</p>
<p>Besides, she knew from experience that as long as they didn't start shouting, Madam Pomfrey was out for the night. And, hopefully, Sirius and Dumbledore wouldn't try to stop their plan if they walked in.</p>
<p>Hermione gestured to Neville's pocket.</p>
<p>"Let me see her," she said, and Neville handed over the jar.</p>
<p>Hermione held it up to her eye, inspecting it.</p>
<p>"I'm going to release you now," she said, "because we need to talk. But if you try to escape before we do, just know that Amelia Bones will be the first person I tell your secret to."</p>
<p>She uncapped the jar and the beetle flew out, transforming into an acid-tongued reporter. Rita crossed her arms and raised her eyebrow at Hermione, clearly expecting her to speak first.</p>
<p>"I assume you heard everything tonight," Hermione said.</p>
<p>"Quite a tale Dumbledore weaves," Rita Skeeter answered. "He should've gone into storytelling."</p>
<p>Hermione gave her a hard look. "It was the truth," she snapped.</p>
<p>"Or he really is trying to steal Fudge's job and inciting panic about You-Know-Who is just the way to do it," Rita said airily, with a quick glance toward Harry. "And Harry Potter—well, that boy just loves the attention, doesn't he?"</p>
<p>Hermione was consumed by the urge to slap her, but Harry's voice rang out, "You don't believe that."</p>
<p>Rita looked at Harry appraisingly. "And why's that? Because you're special? Because you're the Boy Who Lived?"</p>
<p>"Because if all I cared about was attention, I would've been your best friend all year," Harry said coldly.</p>
<p>Rita raised her eyebrow. "It doesn't matter what I <em>believe</em>," she said frostily. "It only matters what story will sell."</p>
<p>"Oh, but Rita," Hermione said sweetly, "you can sell just about anything and people will believe you."</p>
<p>She looked down at her fingers, which still bore scars from the hate mail she'd endured thanks to Rita's lies.</p>
<p>"I'm living proof of that, aren't I?" Hermione asked, holding up her hand for Rita to see.</p>
<p>Rita shifted, placing her hands on her hips. "Just what are you proposing?" she asked.</p>
<p>"The way I see it, you have three choices," Hermione explained. "One, you can print lies about Harry—and I'll report you to Madam Bones for being an unregistered animagus, and the only story you'll be telling is from a cell in Azkaban. Perhaps they'll place you next to Pettigrew. Two, you can refrain from ever writing anything ever again, and we'll keep your secret.</p>
<p>"Or," Hermione added, "you can write the story as it was told tonight—just the facts, exactly as Dumbledore laid them out earlier, exactly as Harry tells you now—and you'll have it printed in tomorrow's edition of <em>The Daily Prophet</em>."</p>
<p>Rita narrowed her eyes. "<em>The Prophet </em>will never go for it," she said. "It's not a story people want to hear."</p>
<p>"So <em>The Prophet</em> exists to tell people exactly what they want?" Hermione asked angrily. "And not the truth?"</p>
<p>Rita laughed, pinning Hermione with a condescending glare. "<em>The Prophet</em> exists to make money," she spat, "and it can't do that if people don't want to read it."</p>
<p>Hermione smiled. "Funny, I'm no expert, but I'd think any paper could make quite a lot of money off a sensational story like You-Know-Who's return," she said. "It's a bit more interesting than the goings on at a boarding school, which you've done well enough with."</p>
<p>"Besides, Rita," Neville pointed out, "you've made a career out of making Cornelius Fudge look like a blithering idiot. What's one more story?"</p>
<p>"If anyone can get <em>The Prophet </em>to run this story, it's you," Hermione added, appealing to her ego. "Though it would probably be easier sooner rather than later—before Fudge tries anything."</p>
<p>She knew one thing—they had to control the story before Fudge and Umbridge had time to do so. Right now, they were busy dealing with Pettigrew and Madam Bones, but if she gave them time, who knows what story they'd spew to <em>The Daily Prophet</em>?</p>
<p>Hermione walked over to the cupboard where she knew Madam Pomfrey kept a stack of loose parchment, an inkwell and a quill for students stuck in the hospital wing.</p>
<p>"So," she said, holding out the quill, "do we have a deal? Or is it early retirement for you?"</p>
<p>Rita glanced between the three Gryffindors, shooting them all a venomous look.</p>
<p>"I'd decide quickly if I were you, Rita," Harry added coolly. "You never know when Professor Dumbledore and Sirius will return—and they might not be as generous with you as we are."</p>
<p>She regarded Harry and then something in her eyes shifted, and Hermione knew even before Rita reached for the quill that she was going to tell the story of her lifetime.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0026"><h2>26. Chapter 26</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry could feel the brightness even before he opened his eyes. He didn't know how long he had slept but he knew it was no longer night.</p>
<p>He heard birds chirping and pages turning, and as he contemplated whether he should open his eyes or not, it all came rushing back: the grotesque visage that was Voldemort, the way he returned, the agony of being tortured, the certainty that he was going to die, the way the snake sank its fangs into Crouch, the vacant look in Winky's eyes when he closed them… how cold she was.</p>
<p>Wanting to push away the memories, he reached for his glasses, his hand finding them instinctively on the nightstand next to him.</p>
<p>"Harry?"</p>
<p>Harry smiled inwardly at Hermione's voice as he put on his glasses and turned to her. She was sitting in the chair next to his bedside. She straightened as he sat up, surveying him, an anxious look on her face.</p>
<p>"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>Ron, who had been flipping through <em>Which Broomstick </em>next to her, stared at him intently, too.</p>
<p>"All right," Harry said, simply because it seemed like the thing to say. He didn't really want to talk about it.</p>
<p>He looked around. The hospital wing was very quiet and very bright.</p>
<p>"What time is it?" he asked.</p>
<p>"Almost two," Ron said. "You've been out for ages."</p>
<p>"Neville was with us this morning, but he had his Muggle Studies exam this afternoon," Hermione informed him, and from her tone, Harry wondered if there'd been a bit of a debate in which Hermione had to convince Neville to go to his exam.</p>
<p>To be honest, Harry had completely forgotten that exams were still happening.</p>
<p>"Where's Sirius?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"He, er, went to his hearing," Hermione said.</p>
<p>"He <em>what</em>?" Harry practically shouted, moving to get out of bed. "Without us? Don't they need us there to testify? What if they—"</p>
<p>Hermione held up her hands to pacify him.</p>
<p>"They said they wouldn't need us on account of Pettigrew's confession," Hermione explained.</p>
<p>"And, you know, the fact that Pettigrew's alive," Ron added.</p>
<p>"Plus, Professor McGonagall, Professor Moody and Amos Diggory heard Pettigrew's confession last night when he told it to Fudge and Umbridge," Hermione reasoned, "and they all make better witnesses than us. Professor McGonagall said it's really all a formality at this point, and Sirius wanted us to tell you he'd be back as soon as he could."</p>
<p>Harry sat back down on his bed, but he still didn't like it. What if Fudge tried to do something underhanded? Dumbledore and Madam Bones were on Sirius' side, but Harry still didn't trust Fudge.</p>
<p>And Fudge wouldn't have been happy this morning when he read <em>The Daily Prophet</em>. What if he took it out on Sirius? Why hadn't they thought of that last night?</p>
<p>"Have you got <em>The Prophet</em>?" he asked, looking between them both. Ron reached to the bed behind him and handed Harry the paper.</p>
<p>Harry glanced through the article to see if anything was amiss.</p>
<p>"It's exactly what we approved last night," Hermione confirmed with a satisfied look on her face, as Harry paged through it.</p>
<p>Last night, Harry had told his story for a second time to Rita Skeeter. It had been exhausting and painful and horrible, unburdening himself while Rita surveyed him with cool eyes, and Neville and Hermione watched, their compassion and fear for him evident.</p>
<p>He had omitted the part about the wands connecting and his parents talking to him. When he'd told Dumbledore that part last night, Dumbledore had explained about priori incantatem and what happened when brother wands met. He didn't think that was something the entire world needed to know.</p>
<p>And he definitely didn't want to share the only conversation he'd ever had with his parents with the world—if it even was them. He still wasn't entirely sure how priori incantatem worked.</p>
<p>But he'd told Rita Skeeter everything else, and afterward, they'd all read her story carefully to approve it. He could see now that she'd held up her end of the bargain; the story was exactly the same.</p>
<p>Still, it was a shock to see Rita Skeeter's byline on something so…factual. Oh sure, there were a few snide digs at Fudge—she was Rita Skeeter, after all—but Hermione had thought it best not to draw too big of a line between them and Fudge. If enough people believed them, Fudge would see that his best course of action was to join them—the man liked being liked, after all—and she wanted to make it easier for him to do so.</p>
<p>"I still don't understand how you got Rita Skeeter to not twist your words around," Ron commented, and then with an annoyed glance at Hermione added, "Course, that's because Hermione won't tell me."</p>
<p>Hermione grimaced, and her voice was a little high when she said, "I told you, Ron, I—"</p>
<p>"You don't trust me," Ron said flatly. "Think I'll go blabbing it around."</p>
<p>"I know you wouldn't <em>blab</em> it, but the fewer people who know, the better," Hermione insisted.</p>
<p>They'd clearly had a fight about it this morning. Ron looked grumpy and Hermione was sitting even straighter in her chair, twisting her hands around, as she darted her eyes to Harry's, seeming to silently plead with him to understand.</p>
<p>Ron also turned to look at him.</p>
<p>Harry didn't think Ron <em>would</em> go blabbing it around, but this was Hermione's secret—she was the one who figured out what Rita was and she was the one who came up with the idea to use her. If Hermione didn't want Ron to know, he'd back her play the way she always backed his.</p>
<p>"Look," Harry started to say, and Ron seemed to sense that Harry had taken Hermione's side because he interrupted Harry.</p>
<p>"Oh, come on!" he blurted. "How are things supposed to go back to normal if you two won't trust me?"</p>
<p>Harry wasn't entirely sure of the answer to that. Neither was Hermione, apparently, because the three of them all stared at each other awkwardly.</p>
<p>"But things aren't back to normal yet," Hermione finally said, glancing furtively at Ron. "I know you don't want to hear it, and I know you and Harry can joke around and have fun, but the two of us aren't there yet."</p>
<p>The yet in her sentence weighed heavily on them. Hermione and Ron were nowhere near joking around—this was the most normal conversation they'd had in ages.</p>
<p>Ron looked between the two of them and seemed to see the solidarity there, and slumped back in his chair.</p>
<p>"Well, maybe you two can come stay for a bit this summer?" he suggested, clearly thinking that a week or two playing quidditch at the Burrow would help things along.</p>
<p>"Maybe," Harry said hesitantly, which Ron seemed to pick up on.</p>
<p>"If you'd rather go somewhere else, back to Neville's—"</p>
<p>"No, it's not that," Harry said hastily, wanting to avoid any jealousy issues, "it's just that…Well, I can go live with Sirius, right? If everything goes all right today? So maybe…I'll have a house you all can come visit instead."</p>
<p>Ron seemed to brighten at that. "Yeah," he agreed, smiling. "That would be brilliant!"</p>
<p>"Plus," he added offhandedly, "I bet Sirius will be loads more fun than mum!"</p>
<p>Harry wasn't entirely sure of that. Oh, he knew living with Sirius would be a thousand times better than the Dursleys—an infinite amount, really—but Sirius hadn't exactly had it easy the past decade and normal life would probably be an adjustment for him. And, if how protective he'd been over Harry this entire year was any indication, Harry didn't know how lenient Sirius would be.</p>
<p>Still, Harry couldn't wait for them to have their own place.</p>
<p>"I thought you were only inviting Crookshanks?" Hermione teased, and Harry grinned at the memory of their conversation in the secret garden, feeling once again like he was soaring on his firebolt.</p>
<p>"I suppose it'd be all right if you came, too," Harry told her. "Crookshanks will probably drop me for Sirius anyway."</p>
<p>Hermione laughed, and Harry felt better than he had since before this whole nightmare had started last night. Ron glanced between them, looking completely lost.</p>
<p>Wanting to avoid anymore fighting and hurt feelings, Harry asked a question they could both answer.</p>
<p>"So what are people saying?" he asked. "Now that they've read it?"</p>
<p>"We went down to breakfast so we could get the mail," Hermione explained, "and there was plenty of talk about it, but most people were still in too much shock to really have an opinion, I think."</p>
<p>"And we've been up here ever since," Ron supplied.</p>
<p>"Well, what happened when you went back to Gryffindor Tower last night?" Harry asked. "I'm sure you got loads of questions."</p>
<p>Ron snorted. "I went back to Gryffindor Tower with mum. And she made it very clear to everyone that you were perfectly fine, but they weren't to ask about what happened to you, and to give you your privacy. And, well, everyone's heard her howlers, so…"</p>
<p>He trailed off, but the expression on his face was clear: Mrs. Weasley frightened most of Gryffindor Tower.</p>
<p>"So no one asked you anything at all?" Harry asked skeptically.</p>
<p>"Oh no, Fred and George followed me to the dorm," Ron laughed. "<em>They're</em> not afraid of mum. I told them a bit—not all of it mind you, but they wouldn't have let me alone if I didn't tell them <em>something</em>. Of course, it doesn't much matter now since everyone's read the article."</p>
<p>Harry felt his stomach rumble, and a quick glance at Hermione and Ron showed that they had heard it, too.</p>
<p>"You should probably eat something," Hermione said, frowning. "You haven't had anything since dinner last night—and even that wasn't much."</p>
<p>"I could go for a bite, too. We haven't had lunch either," Ron said, standing up. "I can nick down to the kitchens. Fred and George told me how to get in there. I'm sure the house elves have something we can eat."</p>
<p>He studiously avoided Hermione's gaze when he said "house elves."</p>
<p>Harry smiled at Ron appreciatively. "That would be great, Ron," he said. "Thank you."</p>
<hr/>
<p>For the first time since the graveyard, Harry was alone with Hermione. Without Ron sitting there, the mood had shifted. She was watching him, her sharp eyes missing nothing, and he felt very exposed.</p>
<p>Not wanting to talk about how he was feeling, or have to even think about what he was feeling, he stood and went to the loo, busying himself with washing his face and brushing his teeth. When he returned, Hermione eyed him speculatively.</p>
<p>"How are you really?" she asked, undeterred from her mission.</p>
<p>"I'm fine," he said automatically, sitting back down in his bed. He didn't want to dissect it or discuss it; he just wanted to be here with her.</p>
<p>Hermione narrowed her eyes, and then shifted swiftly from the chair to sit on the edge of his bed, so they were facing each other.</p>
<p>"You can't possibly be fine," she said softly, reaching for his hand.</p>
<p>Harry let her take it, watched the way her delicate fingers intertwined with his, clasping him gently. He closed his eyes briefly at the touch, but remained fixed on their hands. If he looked her in the eyes, she'd know.</p>
<p>"I'm not fine," she added quietly. He heard the tremor in her voice and his eyes flew up to meet hers. They were full of tears.</p>
<p>"I felt so useless," she whispered, as a tear slipped down her cheek. "And I know it's not about me—that what I went through is <em>nothing</em> compared to what happened to you—so if I feel like this, I can't imagine what you're going through."</p>
<p>"Useless?" Harry asked stupidly. How could she possibly have felt useless?</p>
<p>"You were just gone," she said, and now she was staring intently at their intertwined hands, as if reminding herself that he was here. "All of that planning, all of that preparation, everything we did, and You-Know-Who's plan still worked. I completely failed."</p>
<p>Her voice broke on the last word, and he felt a fierce surge of protectiveness, like he wanted to punch out anything that made her feel bad about herself.</p>
<p>"Hermione, weren't you listening to anything I said last night?" Harry asked. "Voldemort's plan didn't work. Yes, he's back, but I wasn't supposed to survive. But I did—because of you. If I didn't have your wand, I never would've been able to fight back. I never would've been able to get rid of that gag and call for Dumbledore's help. If it hadn't been for that training schedule, Fleur never would've had the time to teach me nonverbal magic. You didn't fail at all. You were incredible."</p>
<p>She looked back up at him and gave him a watery smile.</p>
<p>Words weren't enough.</p>
<p>On an impulse he leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle yet solid kiss, bringing his hands up to frame her face, wanting her to feel everything he was feeling. He felt the softness of her hair, felt her hands reach up tentatively to touch his stomach and his back, but mostly he just felt <em>her: </em>her kiss, her warmth, her presence. It was exactly what he needed.</p>
<p>They broke apart, and he leaned his forehead against hers, not quite wanting to lose contact yet, as his thumbs gently brushed away the remnants of her tears.</p>
<p>"You're pretty wonderful," Hermione whispered.</p>
<p>"You're…" Harry started to say, but he wasn't good with words, and they couldn't describe what he wanted to say anyway. He kissed her again, hoping she'd understand the message.</p>
<p>When he eased back, her eyes had cleared up and there was a soft smile on her face. He felt comforted by it. Then she bit her lip, her face turning serious again.</p>
<p>"You can talk to me, Harry," she said. "You can tell me anything."</p>
<p>"I know," Harry said, and his hand slipped down to find hers again. "But after the graveyard last night, and telling everything to Dumbledore, and then telling everything to Rita… I'm a bit talked out."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded.</p>
<p>"But I'm glad you're here," Harry said, still looking at their hands. He shifted to the side of the bed, and then motioned for her to sit next to him. They leaned back against his pillow, his arm around her shoulder, her head resting against him.</p>
<p>In any other situation, he might've felt self-conscious about it—he still wasn't exactly sure how to do any of this—but he'd had one of the worst nights imaginable, and all he knew was this made him feel better. Sitting in comfortable silence with Hermione was exactly what he wanted.</p>
<p>He reached for one of her curls, absentmindedly playing with it.</p>
<p>They sat like that for a while, finding comfort in each other's presence, feeling the rhythm of their breaths, and it lulled Harry into a weird state of peace. He didn't want to talk about himself, but there were things he was struggling to understand.</p>
<p>"I don't think she wanted to do it," he finally said, his voice quiet but sure. "Winky. When she looked up at me and said she was sorry, I believed her. And in the graveyard, before he… she was rocking back and forth like Dobby used to when he knew he'd done something wrong."</p>
<p>"But Crouch gave her clothes," Hermione responded. "So do you think there's something more to the bond—that Winky needed more than clothes for freedom? Or was it just… she'd been conditioned to obey and so she did?"</p>
<p>She sounded angry and frustrated and determined all the same.</p>
<p>"I don't know. I don't know if she had no choice or she only thought she did or…but she didn't deserve the life she got. No choices, just some puppet on a string," he answered angrily.</p>
<p>"Harry?"</p>
<p>Now that he was talking, it appeared he couldn't stop. It helped that they were both staring at the wall and not each other.</p>
<p>"Why didn't Dumbledore tell me he suspected Voldemort wanted to take me out of Hogwarts?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore told me how to get him there, so he clearly thought it was still a possibility. Why wouldn't he tell me everything?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," Hermione said slowly. "Maybe he didn't want to worry you. Or maybe… He does seem to compartmentalize a lot, doesn't he? Keeping things close to the vest? He didn't tell you about the deluminator or why he sent you to the Dursleys, and he refuses to tell anyone why he trusts Snape."</p>
<p>Harry felt the pit return to his stomach. Voldemort was back and Snape was a former Death Eater. He had the dark mark tattoo, the same as Peter Pettigrew.</p>
<p>"He's going to trust Snape now more than ever, isn't he?" Harry pondered. "Now that Voldemort's back."</p>
<p>Hermione shivered. "I suppose so," she said quietly. "It'll probably make Professor Dumbledore try even harder to keep Snape around next year."</p>
<p>That prospect made Harry feel even worse.</p>
<p>"I just wish he didn't keep so many secrets," Harry said. If he only knew why Dumbledore trusted Snape, maybe he could, too.</p>
<p>"I'd still rather have Dumbledore on our side, though," Hermione whispered. "Even with his secrets. If he hadn't gone to the graveyard…"</p>
<p>She trailed off, but Harry felt the ragged hitch in her breathing.</p>
<p>"At the very least, I deserved to know what he thought Voldemort was planning," Harry added.</p>
<p>Hermione was quiet. He looked down and saw she was playing with a piece of thread on the edge of her robes.</p>
<p>"Do you think I'm wrong for keeping secrets?" she asked. "For not telling Ron about Rita Skeeter?"</p>
<p>Harry thought about it.</p>
<p>"Well, it's different, isn't it?" Harry asked. "Dumbledore didn't tell me about something that affected me. But Ron doesn't need to know the Rita secret. It's not like we're keeping something from him about Fred or George or his mum."</p>
<p>"Would you have told him?" she asked. "About Rita?"</p>
<p>A year ago, the answer would have been yes without any hesitation. But now? If it was just Harry, maybe. But it wasn't just Harry.</p>
<p>"Not if you weren't comfortable with it," Harry said, and he felt Hermione lean her head in a little closer.</p>
<p>"But even still," he said, "with Voldemort back…we need all the help we can get."</p>
<p>He felt Hermione nod.</p>
<p>"It's just that there's the Imperius curse and polyjuice potion and veritaserum," she said. "There are all sorts of ways to get information out of someone. Our hold over Rita is safer if fewer people know."</p>
<p>He watched her tug on the errant thread, snapping it off. Harry had the distinct feeling that there was something more to it that she wasn't saying. He waited quietly for her to gather her thoughts.</p>
<p>"I think… I think maybe it's also that this is the one thing I can control," she confessed. "I can't do anything about You-Know-Who or what he's planning, I can't organize the Order of the Phoenix, I can't force the Board of Governors to sack Snape, but I can make sure that Rita helps us."</p>
<p>Hermione liked being in control. Harry couldn't blame her—he hated nothing more than feeling helpless. It's why he'd hated the dementors so much before he learned his patronus. Having to relive his worst memories, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it, had been agony.</p>
<p>But he knew it wasn't just that.</p>
<p>"But you also don't trust him," he said quietly.</p>
<p>Hermione stilled. "It's not like I think he'd betray us," she finally said, "but no, I suppose I don't. Not like I used to anyway."</p>
<p>Did Harry?</p>
<p>His head hurt again, so he focused on the weight of Hermione's head on his shoulder, the slight scent of citrus in her shampoo, and pushed all other thoughts away.</p>
<hr/>
<p>They were still in the bed, Hermione nestled into his side, when the door to the hospital wing opened and Sirius and Dumbledore strode inside. Upon seeing them, Sirius grinned, while Dumbledore appeared merely curious.</p>
<p>Hermione shot out of the bed, quickly adjusting her robes, her face turning beet red at having been caught in any sort of intimate moment by their headmaster. She fluffed her hair back nervously, running her hands over it to smooth it down.</p>
<p>Sirius cocked his eyebrow at Harry, as if he were wondering if Harry were similarly embarrassed. But Harry wasn't paying any attention to that. Sirius was here, and not in any sort of restraints, which had to mean…</p>
<p>"Are you free?" Harry asked, standing up.</p>
<p>"I'm free," Sirius nodded, his grin brightening his whole face, making him appear younger than Harry had ever seen him.</p>
<p>Harry felt a lump in his throat; he could only imagine how it must feel for Sirius. He nodded, and then he was caught up in a bear hug, Sirius crushing him to his chest. When they broke apart, Dumbledore and Hermione were both smiling, and Hermione had tears in her eyes again.</p>
<p>"Yes, it was all a rather quick affair once Pettigrew was brought into the room," Dumbledore said. "Sirius can't exactly be blamed for the death of a man who isn't dead. And Pettigrew told the truth when it came to the explosion that killed the others."</p>
<p>Harry looked at Sirius sharply. "You saw him?" he asked.</p>
<p>Sirius grimaced, and anger and hatred and a need for vengeance flashed through his eyes. "Yes," he said curtly.</p>
<p>"What's happened to him now?" Harry asked, looking between Sirius and Dumbledore.</p>
<p>"Amelia has taken him to her office to question him some more," Dumbledore answered. "To see if she can get him to tell the truth about what happened last night."</p>
<p>"So he's still sticking to that, is he?" Harry asked darkly.</p>
<p>"He is," Dumbledore said, eyeing Harry closely. "Although I had a number of interesting conversations with the other members of the Wizengamot—not to mention several Ministry officials I met along the way who had read the most unusual piece of news in <em>The Daily Prophet...</em>unusual, of course, because Rita Skeeter actually told the truth for once and somehow forgot to insult me. It seems you were quite busy after I left last night."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione glanced at each other.</p>
<p>"What did they say?" Harry asked, too interested in the news to wonder if they were in trouble. Hermione, having recovered from her embarrassment, looked equally ready to burst.</p>
<p>Dumbledore smiled. "Some clearly wanted to stick their heads in the sand," he said, "though many believed it without question."</p>
<p>"So do you think the Minister will come around then?" Hermione asked eagerly.</p>
<p>Dumbledore contemplated that. "I'm not sure," he answered. "Fudge studiously avoided answering anything outright, and, as far as I know, he hadn't had a chance to talk to Lucius Malfoy yet."</p>
<p>"What's he got to do with it?" Harry asked, confused.</p>
<p>"Malfoy's one of Voldemort's Death Eaters," Sirius growled. "And he's got the ear of the Minister."</p>
<p>"We know Voldemort called for his Death Eaters last night," Dumbledore said, "but not the instructions he's given them."</p>
<p>"Was that Snape's secret mission—returning to Voldemort?" Harry blurted. Dumbledore did not answer, but from the disgust on Sirius' face, Harry knew the answer was yes.</p>
<p>"So if Lucius Malfoy convinces Fudge to deny You-Know-Who's return, what do you think will happen?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"There will be chaos at the Ministry," Dumbledore answered. "From the reception I got today, many won't take denial easily. And if Fudge digs his heels in, Voldemort will be able to use the disorder and confusion to his advantage. But even that chaos is preferable to outright denial by everyone."</p>
<p>Harry half-expected Dumbledore to ask them how they got Rita to tell the truth—or even how they contacted her so quickly—but to his surprise, Dumbledore didn't. He merely smiled at them all and told them not to celebrate too loudly, lest Madam Pomfrey get cross with them, and left.</p>
<p>And then Harry was left alone with Hermione and Sirius, two of his favorite people in the world. Harry studied Sirius. His hair was still long but he looked cleaner than Harry had ever seen him—even with the modifications Remus had made to the cave, nothing was better than a shower at Hogwarts—and he was wearing expensive-looking charcoal-grey robes.</p>
<p>"Where did you get those?" Harry asked, pointing to Sirius' clothes.</p>
<p>Sirius looked down and grinned. "McGonagall brought them to me this morning," he said. "Seems she and Flitwick went down to Hogsmeade and woke up the owner of Gladrags so they could get them for me."</p>
<p>"And the hearing really went all right?" Harry asked anxiously.</p>
<p>"Aside from having to see that piece of filth?" Sirius replied. "Yes. It's amazing how quickly they all changed their tune."</p>
<p>He smiled bitterly.</p>
<p>"What'll you do now?" Hermione asked, sitting down in her chair. Harry and Sirius also sat.</p>
<p>Sirius looked at her and blinked. "I don't know," he said slowly. "I never really…thought that far. I'll have to figure out a place for us to live, I suppose."</p>
<p>He glanced at Harry, and Harry saw a smidge of hesitancy in his eyes. "That is… if you still want to—"</p>
<p>"Of course I want to!" Harry said quickly.</p>
<p>Sirius smiled. "Then I'd better figure out something quick," he said. "Your end of term will be here before we know it."</p>
<p>Harry had a fleeting vision of a house in the countryside, of racing brooms with Sirius and making treacle tart and playing exploding snap all night. Except he knew it couldn't be like that exactly—not with Voldemort back.</p>
<p>He remembered the pain and panic he felt in the graveyard, and then he remembered his parents' words.</p>
<p>"Sirius," Harry said, "when I was in the graveyard, I… I saw my parents."</p>
<p>Neither Sirius nor Hermione had heard this part of the story, and so Harry quickly told them about priori incantatem.</p>
<p>"My dad said something," Harry explained.</p>
<p>"About the Pride of Portree?" Sirius asked, and at Harry's surprised expression, he added, "You mentioned it before you fell asleep last night."</p>
<p>"Well… what does it mean?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Sirius leaned back in his chair, a faraway look in his eye, and smiled sadly.</p>
<p>"Your dad was a huge quidditch fanatic," he explained. "He loved playing it, and he loved watching Puddlemere United play."</p>
<p>Harry leaned forward, devouring this new information about his dad.</p>
<p>"Well, third year, we were in the Three Broomsticks having a few butterbeers the day after Puddlemere had played Portree," Sirius explained. "Portree trounced them; it was a <em>truly</em> embarrassing loss. All three of Puddlemere's regular chasers came down with spattergroit and the reserves weren't up to scratch. They lost the game 640-70. Your dad was absolutely distraught."</p>
<p>Then why had his father said it would be <em>Portree's</em> year?</p>
<p>"He's consoling himself with his fourth butterbeer when in walks McGonagall," Sirius continued. "Portree's her team, you know. And she's going on and on and <em>on</em> to Kettleburn and Flitwick about it—and the entire time, your dad is listening and just getting angrier and angrier. Finally, he just blows up at McGonagall, and they get into a bit of a screaming match."</p>
<p>"What did Professor McGonagall do to him?" Hermione whispered, her eyes wide.</p>
<p>"Nothing," Sirius said, shooting her a confused glance. "She wasn't about to take points off for being passionate about <em>quidditch</em>, after all. If she understands anything, it's that."</p>
<p>Hermione looked like she thought that was a particularly dumb thing to think, but Harry knew precisely how much Professor McGonagall loved the game.</p>
<p>"In any case, before he stormed out, your dad yelled that the day the Pride of Portree actually won the league, ostriches in yellow tutus would tap dance around the great hall," Sirius said, grinning. "So naturally, from that day on, your dad—while he still remained a staunch Puddlemere supporter—desperately hoped that Portree would win the league."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione exchanged confused glances.</p>
<p>"So he could make ostriches dance around the great hall," Sirius replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "He spent the rest of third year and half of fourth teaching himself how to transfigure our trunks into ostriches, and then another few months working on the charm to make them dance."</p>
<p>"Trunks into ostriches? That's <em>really</em> advanced Transfiguration for a fourth year," Hermione exclaimed, the admiration evident on her face.</p>
<p>"Well, we were fairly good at it," Sirius responded ruefully. "If you recall, we became animagi just one year later."</p>
<p>Hermione had a dreamy smile on her face, and Harry thought perhaps it would be a good idea to get Sirius to teach them more advanced Transfiguration this summer. Hermione had always seemed particularly pleased when he accomplished a complex spell, and if he could transfigure a table and chairs into a horde of elephants, he could only imagine how impressed she'd be.</p>
<p>And it didn't hurt that a bunch of elephants might come in handy if they needed to keep some Death Eaters busy.</p>
<p>"So what happened?" Hermione asked. "Did he ever do it?"</p>
<p>"No," Sirius said sadly, shaking his head. "Portree never did win after that. At least not while we were around… but James never stopped hoping."</p>
<p>Harry smiled fondly at Sirius' memory, then felt his heart pounding as the reality of what Sirius' story meant sank in: It had all been real. He had wondered…</p>
<p>"What are you thinking, Harry?" Hermione asked, eyeing him closely.</p>
<p>"I didn't know if it was really them," he said quietly, "or if it was just some magic that looked like them because Voldemort had killed them with that wand. But… only my actual dad would know to say that, right? It couldn't have just been some sort of spell echo?"</p>
<p>Sirius frowned. "It's a very specific thing to know," he said. "I'd think it had to be your dad—or, at least, some true version of him."</p>
<p>His dad hadn't just been giving him a message for Sirius; he'd been letting Harry know that they were real.</p>
<p>"So then it was really them," Harry continued. "And that means that everything they said to me was real. That they meant it."</p>
<p>They'd meant it when they said that he was just like them, and they'd meant it when they'd said that they'd loved him. He knew that, of course—they'd died for him—but now he knew their entire conversation—their first conversation, their only conversation—hadn't just been some trick of magic.</p>
<p>Neither Sirius nor Hermione asked him what else his parents had said, but judging from the looks on their faces, they both seemed to know anyway.</p>
<p>There was a banging on the door—like someone was kicking it—and they all jumped. Hermione ran to open it, and when she did, Ron was standing there, laden down with trays of food.</p>
<p>"Sorry it took so long," Ron muttered, as Hermione moved aside so he could enter. "They sort of didn't want me to leave—kept trying to feed me there."</p>
<p>Judging by the crumbs on the front of Ron's robes, the house elves had been at least partially successful.</p>
<p>"And then they loaded me up with stuff; I could barely carry all of it," Ron said, as they worked to unpack the food. Harry surveyed the loot, and felt his stomach rumble again.</p>
<p>As he bit into a chicken leg, listening to Sirius tell another story about his time at Hogwarts, Harry rather thought that he could get used to more afternoons like this.</p>
<hr/>
<p>If Harry thought the rest of the school had treated him strangely when he was accused of being the heir of Slytherin, or when his name came out of the goblet of fire, he was sorely mistaken. Those times had nothing on the days between him leaving the hospital wing and end of term.</p>
<p>There were those who avoided looking him in the eyes, always followed by whispers when he walked by, and there were the awed, astonished faces. Some, he knew, thought he was a total nutter. Others seemed to believe him—and that scared them more than anything because believing him meant Voldemort was back.</p>
<p>Gryffindor Tower was more subdued than ever. Dean, Seamus, Lavender and Parvati watched Harry and his friends carefully their first night back. It was Dean who hesitantly asked Harry about Rita's article.</p>
<p>"So it's true then?" he asked, and at Harry's affirmative response, he nodded his head awkwardly and said, "We weren't sure… Her last few articles about you haven't exactly been…accurate."</p>
<p>"Love potions, <em>honestly</em>," Lavender muttered, but her eyes were very wide.</p>
<p>"Well, this one's true," Hermione insisted.</p>
<p>Everyone—from Dennis Creevey to Cormac McLaggen—had been hanging on their every word, and from that moment on, it was like all of Gryffindor Tower was waiting for something, for any sign or indication that things were changing in the world at large.</p>
<p>Cedric, Fleur and Viktor were similarly pensive. None of them seemed to know what to say, and when Harry thanked them for their help, especially Fleur's help with nonverbal spells, she smiled grimly and said, "Eet was nothing… 'Ou saved my sister, and zat means ze world."</p>
<p>Harry had been in far more danger in Voldemort's hands than Gabrielle had ever been in at Hogwarts, but Fleur didn't quite seem to see the distinction—or maybe this was just another thing about siblings and families that he just didn't understand.</p>
<p>But mostly, Harry just liked sitting quietly with his friends, not talking at all or talking about something other than Voldemort. The day before the Leaving Feast, Luna gave him the best distraction of all.</p>
<p>He, Hermione and Neville were holed up in the library—he felt like he was in a fishbowl even in Gryffindor Tower, and with exams over, the library was deserted—when she meandered in, looking like she'd been walking in a daydream.</p>
<p>"Hello," she greeted them, her voice floating over as she sat at their table.</p>
<p>Harry expected her to ask him about the article—she seemed to be one of the few people not afraid to ask him direct questions—but to his surprise, she didn't.</p>
<p>"Did you still want to go and talk to the Gray Lady?" Luna asked.</p>
<p>"Why?" Harry responded, completely confused, but from Neville and Hermione's expressions, they knew exactly what she was talking about.</p>
<p>"We talked about it before… before the task," Neville explained. "We think she might know something about house elves."</p>
<p>"She's more than a thousand years old," Luna added.</p>
<p>"We don't have to go right now," Hermione said uncertainly. "If you don't feel like talking, I mean."</p>
<p>He hadn't felt like talking, but Harry felt himself pushing to his feet.</p>
<p>"No, I think we should go," he declared. "If we don't figure it out then what happened to Winky could happen to any of the house elves."</p>
<p>Hermione's expression when he said that was so affectionate he felt his face grow hotter and had to look away.</p>
<p>And so it was decided. Luna knew the Ravenclaw ghost preferred haunting one of the corridors on the fifth floor this time of day—it had some paintings she quite liked—and sure enough, when they got there, a young woman with long hair was gazing upon a portrait of a forest, inspecting it thoroughly. She had a regal presence, her long neck straight, her expression snooty. Luna went to stand beside her.</p>
<p>"You've brought friends this time," the ghost murmured, never taking her eyes from the trees before her.</p>
<p>"Yes," Luna beamed, almost proudly, as if this were the first time anyone had ever accused her of having friends.</p>
<p>They talked quietly for a while about brush strokes and lighting and use of color, and Harry found himself getting antsy.</p>
<p>The Gray Lady noticed because she commented, "Your friend doesn't appear to like art."</p>
<p>"I like it just fine," Harry answered, although the truth was he hadn't spent much time looking at the paintings at Hogwarts unless they were conversing with him—or, in the case of Sir Cadogan, attempting to quarrel with him.</p>
<p>The Gray Lady turned, leveling her haughty expression on them.</p>
<p>"It's not that we don't like art," Hermione explained hastily. "My dad and I actually go to museums quite regularly, though he prefers modern art to… Well, in any case, it's just that we have some important questions to ask you."</p>
<p>"About what?" the Gray Lady asked, her expression guarded.</p>
<p>"About house elves," Hermione answered eagerly. "About how they came to be enslaved—"</p>
<p>"Enslaved?" the ghost asked, her tone incredulous. "You do not sound like most of the witches and wizards who have walked through these halls."</p>
<p>"I'll take that as a compliment," Hermione said stiffly, and Harry could see her temper rising.</p>
<p>"We were curious if they'd always served wizards," Neville interrupted. "Or if, perhaps, some magic made them wish to serve."</p>
<p>The Gray Lady surveyed them. "And why would you wish to know about that?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Who wouldn't want to understand the boundaries and capabilities of magic?" Luna asked, her face unassuming, her expression open and honest.</p>
<p>The Gray Lady smiled. "A true Ravenclaw," she said fondly.</p>
<p>"So, is there something there, then?" Harry asked. "Do you know something?"</p>
<p>The Gray Lady was quiet for a while. Harry and his friends waited, and it felt to Harry as if they were on the edge of something.</p>
<p>"Even in my time, house elves served wizards. It was the way it was then, as it is now," she said.</p>
<p>"But what about before?" Hermione pressed. "Was there ever any talk of anything, any rumors, any—"</p>
<p>"If magic that bound a race ever existed, it's not magic children should be playing with," the Gray Lady said sharply. "There are some things—some magic—that are not yours to touch. You pay a high price if you do not learn that lesson."</p>
<p>She spoke as if from experience.</p>
<p>"We don't want to enslave any <em>more</em> creatures," Hermione said testily. "We want to help the house elves if we can—"</p>
<p>"We want to stop Voldemort," Harry interrupted her, earning a jolt from Hermione and Luna and a squeak from Neville. "But I suppose a ghost wouldn't care about that."</p>
<p>"Well, I—what?" the Gray Lady sputtered, and for the first time she didn't appear composed.</p>
<p>"Lord Voldemort," Harry repeated. "He returned to full power a few days ago, and the only reason he accomplished it was because he had a house elf to do his bidding. She's dead now because of it, but since most old pureblood families have house elves, and most of his followers come from those families, then that means he's got countless more house elves at his disposal to wage war on the rest of us. How many of them will die? How many people will get killed because those house elves are forced to do what he wants? If you care about that at all, then you'll help us."</p>
<p>If ghosts could blush, Harry was certain she would have. Her cheeks, however, did turn more opaque.</p>
<p>"Well, of course I care!" she responded heatedly. "Of course I—"</p>
<p>She stopped abruptly. Harry stared back.</p>
<p>"I do not know what magic was used," she said finally. "I only know that they were not always wizards' servants."</p>
<p>"How do you know that?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Helga Hufflepuff."</p>
<p>"You knew the founders?" Harry asked, but even as he said it, he did the math in his head. If she lived more than a thousand years ago and she went to Hogwarts, there was a good chance she knew the founders.</p>
<p>"Yes," the Gray Lady answered, her eyes guarded. "And Helga Hufflepuff thought house-elf servitude was cruel. She sought to end it—though she did not get much help from her fellow founders."</p>
<p>"Not even Gryffindor?" Hermione asked, her dismay evident.</p>
<p>"Not even him," the Gray Lady answered. "When Helga Hufflepuff could not free them, she did the next best thing—she brought as many house elves to Hogwarts as she could find, ensuring they would at least have fair and benevolent masters. The house elves would answer to the headmasters of Hogwarts—and she believed they would be just and kind."</p>
<p>"But if they're still working at Hogwarts, then that means Helga Hufflepuff never found a way to free them, doesn't it?" Luna asked.</p>
<p>"I would not know," the Gray Lady answered. "I know she never stopped looking for answers. And whatever research she did would likely still be in her office."</p>
<p>"Her what?" Harry asked. He'd never heard of the founders having offices. It could be any of the rooms by now.</p>
<p>The Gray Lady smiled haughtily. "You did not think Salazar Slytherin was the only one who hid his secrets in Hogwarts, did you?" she asked. "They all left their marks in their own way."</p>
<p>"Where could we find this room?" Harry asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"I don't know," the Gray Lady said, her eyes clouding over. "I was never deemed worthy enough to enter. The only secret hideaway I know about belonged to my own house—a room that provides all that you require."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione glanced at each other nervously. If you had to be a Hufflepuff to enter, none of them were getting in even if they did find this office.</p>
<p>"Well," Hermione said, and Harry could see her wheels turning, "where can we find this room of requirement?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0027"><h2>27. Chapter 27</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Room of Requirement was everything Hermione had hoped for and more. As soon as they finished their talk with the Gray Lady, they made a beeline for the seventh floor.</p><p>First, Harry asked for something akin to Neville's Auror Room, and when they opened the unassuming wood door they were greeted with an exact replica. As they looked around in amazement, Hermione caught Harry's eye and knew the gleam she saw there mirrored her own. Training next year would be so much easier now.</p><p>Then Hermione asked for a giant library, and was rewarded with the most beautiful room she'd ever seen, with soaring archways, rich mahogany bookshelves and an overabundance of the most comfortable leather armchairs she'd ever sat in.</p><p>"Oh!" she cried as she looked around, completely enchanted. She explored some of the stacks, her fingers grazing lightly over the titles, wondering if these were copies of the books Hogwarts already owned or if this room had access to new and different tomes.</p><p>She lost herself in the titles, each one more obscure than the next, itching to read all of them—though it would probably take her a hundred years or so. Still, she had a vision of herself here next year, curled up on one of the green armchairs, covered with a fuzzy knit blanket, a stack of books on the table next to her. Harry was in the chair beside her, reading his own stack, with Crookshanks snuggled on his lap.</p><p>She smiled softly at the mental image, while in reality her fingers gently inspected <em>Lawrence the Lazy &amp; the Invention of Floo Powder</em>. She felt herself being watched—though not in an unpleasant way—and shifted her head to the side. Harry was gazing at her, his green eyes intent and focused solely on her. She blushed slightly, feeling her stomach flip.</p><p>Perhaps she'd get more done if he <em>didn't</em> accompany her here.</p><p>Next, Neville conjured up a homey-looking sitting room that looked remarkably like Gryffindor Tower, except it was decorated in Ravenclaw colors as well.</p><p>"It's just strange that there's no common room where Luna can hang out with us," he said, and Luna beamed.</p><p>Maybe there was no place for Neville and Harry, but Hermione was looking forward to showing Luna Sanctuary as soon as she could next September.</p><p>Finally, Luna requested a place in the sky, and when they reopened the door, the floor was made of clouds and the room was filled with a brilliant blue that seemed to stretch on forever. Luna walked right in, followed cautiously by Harry, who grew more confident the second he stepped on the nearest cloud and didn't plummet to the ground. Neville and Hermione were more hesitant about it, only entering when they saw Harry and Luna were perfectly all right.</p><p>Hermione's stomach dropped when she looked down and saw only translucent swirls of white, but as she got used to it, and as the sky seemed to sparkle—was that condensation or magic?—she relaxed a bit, no longer feeling like she would fall ten thousand feet, even though by all accounts, that's exactly what should be happening.</p><p>Luna began to jump, as if the clouds were trampolines, her blonde hair bouncing around her, a delighted look on her face.</p><p>Hermione furrowed her brows, inspecting the floor. "You can't bounce on clouds," she frowned.</p><p>"You can on these clouds!" Luna declared happily.</p><p>Hermione tentatively moved her feet, stamping lightly at the cloud beneath her, trying to figure out how exactly it all worked. An illusion charm on the floor? A feather-light charm on them?</p><p>Harry began jumping, and then Neville hesitantly joined in, growing more confident as he and Luna competed for who could jump the highest. Harry was smiling too, his eyes shining as he soared through the air, and Hermione couldn't help but grin back. He'd been so serious earlier, so determined—she didn't know she could be so attracted to a person, but Harry Potter declaring that they had to uncover the truth about house elves in the middle of the Hogwarts library was just about the most appealing sight she'd ever seen—but even still, she liked seeing him have a carefree moment after everything he'd been through.</p><p>He jumped from his cloud closer to hers, and as he slammed down into the swirl (How could something that looked like mist be so solid?) she was launched into the air, her hair flying about her. Her stomach lurched again, but as she and Harry bounced up and down, catching each other's eye as they passed each other in the air, she felt herself begin to loosen up. She forgot about trying to figure out how the magic worked and let herself enjoy the moment.</p><p>They jumped higher and higher—Harry and Luna semi-successfully tried some flips, though Hermione and Neville were satisfied with just jumping—and she found herself laughing at nothing at all. There was so much to worry about, so much to fear, but in this simple moment with Harry, Neville and Luna, they were just kids living in a ridiculous, magical world where humans could bounce on clouds.</p><p>After a while, her legs started to feel tired, and she fell on her back into the mist, bouncing slightly a few times before she settled into her patch of cloud, a white fog rising up above her, hiding her from view. The cloud beneath her certainly <em>felt</em> solid, and yet when she looked down, there was an endless sky below. Was a levitation spell involved? No, it <em>had</em> to be some sort of illusion.</p><p>She felt a few bounces next to her, and then Harry was lying next to her, his arm grazing hers, causing the hairs on her forearm to stand on end.</p><p>"I think Luna wins," he said, grinning at her. "This is definitely the best version of the room."</p><p>Hermione quite liked her library, but she supposed this was a close second.</p><p>"It is interesting," she admitted, feeling warmth flow through her as Harry's smile seemed to settle on her.</p><p>But <em>still</em>… They were here for a reason.</p><p>"We should probably try to figure out if the room knows something about Helga Hufflepuff," Hermione said reluctantly, settling into her role as the responsible one. She usually liked that about herself, but lying here with Harry, she just wanted to be a normal teenage girl for a minute.</p><p>"Right," Harry said, though he didn't look at all ready to leave this place either. He shifted onto his side—Merlin, he was close now—hovering over her.</p><p>She could hear Luna and Neville laughing as they jumped, but it all seemed far away; the mist surrounding her and Harry lent a secluded mood to the atmosphere, and she was staring at that freckle above his lip again and… well, this room was supposed to be all-purpose, wasn't it? He leaned down and she pressed her lips against his, shivering as his hand skimmed her waist.</p><p>They had a million things to think about—Voldemort and Pettigrew and the house elves and Cornelius Fudge and Rita Skeeter and Professor Snape—but a part of her wanted to be selfish, just for a moment, and lose herself in Harry, in this exhilarating rush she felt every time he looked at her, reached for her, touched her.</p><p>Her hand slipped through his hair, which a part of her realized was wet—did these clouds have <em>actual</em> condensation?—but she didn't care because his lips were soft and warm, and honestly, how was she supposed to think about anything else when he was kissing her?</p><p>"Harry? Hermione?" Luna called, more of an echo than anything else.</p><p>Hermione tore herself away from Harry, satisfaction running through her at the regret that flashed through his eyes.</p><p>They sat up, their heads and shoulders popping out of the clouds, and Hermione realized with some embarrassment that their robes were damp and their hair <em>was</em> wet, her curls muted and his untamable locks sticking out in strange directions. Harry appeared much more nonchalant than she felt, wiping his glasses free of water.</p><p>Neville was clearly trying very hard not to laugh and Hermione felt her face go red. Would she <em>ever</em> get used to this?</p><p>"Did you want to see if the room knows anything about Helga Hufflepuff's office?" Luna asked conversationally, seemingly unperturbed that Harry and Hermione looked like they'd come through a rainstorm.</p><p>"Um, yes," Hermione said, nodding her head bossily as she tried to regain her normal composure.</p><p>They all tried—they asked for Helga Hufflepuff's office, they asked for a map to Helga Hufflepuff's office, they asked for a clue to Helga Hufflepuff's office, they tried to cut out the middleman and ask for the true history of house elves or a way to free them—but nothing seemed to work. The room had its limits, it seemed, and Hermione knew she'd be spending the better part of next year trying to figure it out.</p>
<hr/><p>Normally, everyone spent the day of the Leaving Feast outside, enjoying the last day of sunshine at Hogwarts, but Hermione woke up to an overcast sky, hopeful that the less-than-stellar weather would convince some of the Hufflepuff girls to go to Sanctuary.</p><p>After they'd left the Room of Requirement yesterday, they'd tracked down the Fat Friar who knew nothing of Helga Hufflepuff's office. They'd also tried a few of the paintings Luna knew best, but they were similarly unhelpful.</p><p>During the course of these conversations, it became apparent that Luna had befriended them the past three years, something that made Hermione squirm uncomfortably when she thought of how lonely Luna must have been, most especially because of her own first birthday here at Hogwarts. Only nineteen days after their arrival, she'd been friendless and alone, and the only one who had spoken to her all day had been the Fat Lady. If not for a troll, she could have been Luna.</p><p>Neville noted that he could ask his family paintings—most of them had been Gryffindors, but there were some Hufflepuffs in the lot—but Hermione figured some of the current Hufflepuffs might know something, too.</p><p>She entered Sanctuary and looked around. It was mostly empty, but sitting on a couch to the left was Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones. Hermione walked over to them purposefully, set on her mission.</p><p>"Hello," she said, interrupting the story Susan had been telling to the pink-faced blonde next to her. They both looked up.</p><p>"Oh, hi, Hermione," Susan said, gesturing for her to sit down. "What's up?"</p><p>Her curious brown eyes watched Hermione carefully, and Hermione knew Susan was dying to ask her about Harry.</p><p>Hermione sighed. "Yes, it's all true," she said.</p><p>Hannah's eyes were as wide as saucers.</p><p>Susan nodded. "I figured as much," she replied. "Aunt Amelia said—"</p><p>She cut herself off, looking around furtively, as if what Amelia Bones said was top secret. Hermione supposed that was true. If Fudge tried to double down on Pettigrew's lie that You-Know-Who wasn't back, Ministry workers like Amelia Bones, Amos Diggory and Arthur Weasley would have to be careful with what they said publicly.</p><p>Still, the only other people in the room were a couple of sixth years who were transfiguring their hair pink—Susan didn't really have much to worry about.</p><p>"Listen," Hermione said hastily, not wanting to get off track, "have either of you ever heard of Helga Hufflepuff having an office here at Hogwarts?"</p><p>Both Susan and Hannah looked surprised, exchanging puzzled glances.</p><p>"I know it sounds odd, but it's <em>really</em> important," Hermione insisted.</p><p>"As in… fighting You-Know-Who?" Susan whispered.</p><p>Hermione frowned. "Well, sort of," she said. It wasn't exactly a lie. If they freed the house elves, the Death Eaters wouldn't be able to use the elves' magic.</p><p>"I've never heard of anything like that," Susan said. "Sorry."</p><p>"Me neither," Hannah added, although her eyebrows were knit together like she was thinking hard.</p><p>"Oh," Hermione frowned, disappointed. She'd known this would be the likely response, but she had still hoped anyway. "That's all right. We'll just have to figure out another way…"</p><p>"What does Helga Hufflepuff have to do with You-Know-Who anyway?" Susan asked eagerly.</p><p>Hermione bit her lip, not sure how much she should say. "She… researched some things," she finally said. "And Harry, Neville and I think that research could help."</p><p>Susan and Hannah exchanged another glance, blushing slightly. Hannah drummed her fingers against the armrest.</p><p>"Well…" she said, trailing off as soon as she started.</p><p>She blushed harder when she realized both Hermione and Susan were staring at her intently. Hermione had always gotten the impression that Hannah Abbott was sweet but a bit shy and quiet, not at all used to attention, and that had only increased this year when Hannah and the other Hufflepuffs helped her with her plan to sack Snape.</p><p>"What is it?" Hermione asked impatiently.</p><p>"Most of the Abbotts have been in Hufflepuff, y'see," Hannah explained. "And it's tradition to give each Abbott a journal before their first year, so they can document their time at Hogwarts.</p><p>"I'm on my sixth one," she added. "Anyway, we've got a whole lot of them going back centuries in the library. Someone might have known something. I could… well, I could take a look this summer."</p><p>Hermione grinned at her. "That would be brilliant!" she said, feeling a twinge of jealousy that Hannah had access to countless firsthand accounts of historical Hogwarts. What she wouldn't give for something like that!</p><p>"I wish I could help you," Hermione added wistfully.</p><p>"Well—why not?" Hannah asked shyly, gaining confidence as she spoke. "I'm sure my mum wouldn't mind if you came over. Susan visits a ton in the summer, too!"</p><p>Hermione blinked, and her fingertips could already feel the weighty parchment centuries old, the smell of musty books and leather. "I'd love to! Where do you live?"</p><p>"London."</p><p>Hermione grinned. "Oh, I'm not too far then," she exclaimed. "It's just a short train ride, and I'm sure I could convince mum and dad to let me go."</p><p>Hannah and Susan exchanged confused glances.</p><p>"Or my mum could just apparate you to ours," Hannah replied.</p><p>Hermione resisted the urge to slap her hand to her face. Even after being in the wizarding world a few years, things like apparition and portkeys weren't second nature to her. And, if she were being honest, she preferred the train to both methods.</p><p>"Oh, right," Hermione said awkwardly.</p><p>Hannah was ripping a page from one of the magazines for Hermione to write her address on, now chatting happily about their mission. By the time they left Sanctuary, Hermione was fairly certain Susan and Hannah were more excited about it than she was. Apparently, the opportunity to be part of one of Harry Potter's Secret Quests—their words, not hers—was a heady experience.</p><p>She parted ways with the Hufflepuffs, and ran excitedly back to Gryffindor Tower to tell Harry and Neville about the new development. But when she got there, she didn't find the boys. Instead, she found Ginny, sitting pale-faced in one of the armchairs, staring blankly into the empty fireplace.</p><p>Hermione walked over to her cautiously. Ginny had been avoiding Hermione—everyone, really—since the day after the third task.</p><p>"Ginny?" Hermione greeted her, sitting across from her. "What's up?"</p><p>Ginny looked up, her eyes not seeming to see Hermione. She shook her head a little and then gave Hermione a wan half-smile.</p><p>"Oh, hi!" she said, her voice a little higher than normal.</p><p>"Ginny, is everything all right?" Hermione asked, her concern evident.</p><p>A dark look flashed across Ginny's face, but she didn't say anything.</p><p>Hermione had a sinking suspicion that Ginny had taken You-Know-Who's return worse than most—he'd spent 10 months in her head, after all, and Hermione had seen firsthand the way Ginny's nightmares affected her after the Quidditch World Cup.</p><p>Ginny pasted on a bright smile. "I'm fine," she said, standing quickly. "Actually, I'm a bit late to meet Michael. I'll see you later!"</p><p>Before Hermione could get a word in edgewise, Ginny scurried off. Hermione sighed.</p><p>When she tried to say something to Ron about it, he claimed he hadn't noticed anything off with Ginny lately at all, except that she wasn't always hanging around.</p><p>"Well that happens when your boyfriend is in Ravenclaw," Harry commented, causing Ron's jaw to drop.</p><p>"What do you mean, <em>boyfriend</em>?" he asked, scandalized. He pierced Harry with an accusing stare. "You knew about this? How long?"</p><p>Harry shrugged. "I dunno," he said. "How did you <em>not </em>know about it? Their first date was ages ago."</p><p>"Which one is it?" Ron asked, glaring at them both.</p><p>"Michael Corner," Hermione replied. "They met at the ball and started dating after their Hogsmeade date."</p><p>"But I thought she liked <em>you,</em>" Ron muttered crossly, looking at Harry.</p><p>Hermione and Harry exchanged glances. It was certainly an opening to tell Ron about them, but he was already in such a foul mood—and while she didn't think Ginny was right that Ron had a crush on her, if he did, he likely wouldn't take it well. In that case, she could only imagine his reaction in the middle of the very crowded common room, and she didn't exactly want Ron shouting their news to absolutely <em>everyone</em>.</p><p>No, better to mention it to him in private.</p><p>"She got over that crush ages ago," Hermione replied airily.</p><p>Ron crossed his arms grumpily, mumbling something about if Fred and George knew about this Corner git, and all possibilities of talking about Ginny's problems went out the window.</p>
<hr/><p>About an hour before the Leaving Feast, Professor McGonagall made an uncharacteristic appearance in the common room, requesting Harry, Hermione and Neville go to Professor Dumbledore's office.</p><p>The headmaster appeared to be in a good mood, settling comfortably into the sitting area with them.</p><p>"I've asked you all here to discuss your living situations this summer," he informed them.</p><p>Hermione's stomach clenched, and Harry sat up straighter. Sirius was free. Harry was going with him—wherever that was—and Hermione and Neville were going home. What was there to talk about?</p><p>"Has Sirius found a place?" Harry asked, his face guarded.</p><p>Dumbledore smiled, folding his hands across his lap. "Before we get to that, there is something I haven't told you—something that perhaps I should have," Dumbledore said, with an inscrutable glance toward Hermione. "My only defense is that I didn't want to worry you.</p><p>"There is a reason I sent you to live with your aunt and uncle, Harry," he continued, and Hermione already didn't like where this conversation was going. "I knew when I left you on their doorstep that you would suffer, and you did. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years—but I did have my reasons."</p><p>He <em>looked</em> remorseful and yet that didn't make any sense with the words he was saying. He <em>knew</em>. He knew and he sent Harry anyway.</p><p>Dumbledore continued to talk—how any wizarding family would have been honored to take Harry in, how Dumbledore's priority had been to keep Harry alive, how Lily's blood was the strongest protection Harry had against You-Know-Who.</p><p>"Your aunt took you in, and in doing so, she sealed the charm I placed upon you," Dumbledore said. "While you can still call home the place where your mother's blood dwells, there you cannot be touched or harmed by Voldemort."</p><p>So that's why Dumbledore kept sending Harry back there. And yet, it didn't explain why he ignored the neglect and abuse. Surely, he could have done something? Surely, he could have kept a closer eye on Harry all these years? The entire wizarding world was in awe of Dumbledore's power, he was the only wizard You-Know-Who feared—surely, he could have done <em>something</em> about Vernon and Petunia Dursley.</p><p>For his part, Harry looked miserable, as if all of his dreams had been shattered.</p><p>"You want me to go back there, don't you?" he asked in a low, despondent voice. His green eyes were downcast, and she could see him picturing the next couple of months stuck in that miserable prison.</p><p>And then he sat straighter, and she could see the internal struggle—Harry didn't particularly like causing a fuss, but he'd spent the past year dreaming of living with Sirius.</p><p>Neville shot her a look of alarm, and Hermione was already mentally calculating how they would get Augusta Longbottom to barge into the Dursley home and apparate Harry away, but even that was too much time spent in that home.</p><p><em>No. </em>She wouldn't allow it.</p><p>"Sirius couldn't possibly be all right with this," she exclaimed desperately. He'd fought so hard for Harry—there's no way he would just leave him to the Dursleys.</p><p>"And what about the house elves?" Harry practically shouted. "Dobby was able to get inside when he was still working for the Malfoys. And Voldemort's not above using house elves, so how safe can it be?"</p><p>Dumbledore leaned back in his chair.</p><p>"I admit, I never thought Voldemort would think to use house elves," he said. "He always underestimated magic that was not his own."</p><p>"But now… now we know he doesn't underestimate them. So I shouldn't have to go back there," Harry said hopefully.</p><p>Dumbledore smiled kindly.</p><p>"Sirius had much the same attitude when I discussed this with him," he said, and Hermione felt a wave of relief. "And so we came up with a compromise."</p><p>Harry perked up a bit.</p><p>"You <em>must</em> have some sort of protection now that Voldemort is back to full power," Dumbledore said, and his tone brokered no room for discussion. "But a Fidelius in which I am the Secret Keeper is strong—at the very least, we know it can keep out unwanted house elves. The Longbottom home is still under the Fidelius, and Augusta Longbottom has agreed to take both you and Sirius in."</p><p>Neville and Harry looked at each other, their excitement evident.</p><p>"This summer will be brilliant!" Neville exclaimed, and Harry nodded vigorously.</p><p>Hermione rather thought it was the best solution for everyone—after the decade Sirius had, it would probably do him some good to be around more than just Harry. And Wiggentree Manor could use a little more life in it.</p><p>Dumbledore turned to her. "Augusta said she'd be happy to have you as well," he added.</p><p>Harry and Neville looked to her expectantly. She bit her lip in hesitation. An entire summer with them sounded perfect—reading by the lake, playing cards at night, baking biscuits with Diggy, and she could finally take Harry back into the Secret Garden and snog him properly the way she'd wanted to when she realized she fancied him—but she hadn't seen her parents in nearly a year.</p><p>"I don't know," she said, adopting a placating look because she knew Harry and Neville would be disappointed. "It's not like I don't <em>want</em> to go. It's just—I haven't seen my parents in ages. And dad already has a bunch of Museum Days planned and I can't miss mum's birthday and—"</p><p>"You've <em>got</em> to be joking," Harry interrupted, and she looked at him, taken aback. He wasn't disappointed. He was <em>furious.</em></p><p>"What do you mean?" she asked, perplexed at why he was so angry.</p><p>"Aren't you the one who's always telling me to be careful?" Harry asked accusingly.</p><p>"Well, sure, but I don't see what that's got to do with this," she replied.</p><p>"This is a bit reckless, don't you think? We're having a conversation about how Voldemort's back and how we need to be someplace safe with protection and—"</p><p>"<em>You </em>need to be someplace safe," Hermione argued. "<em>You're</em> the one he's after."</p><p>Harry didn't look like he was particularly convinced by that argument.</p><p>She glanced around: Dumbledore seemed particularly interested in the birds flying around outside the window and Neville was inspecting his laces. Harry looked like he was ready to explode.</p><p>She stood hastily, grabbing his hand. "We'll be right back," she said, pulling him out the door and shutting it firmly. They stood at the top of the stairs, staring at each other.</p><p>"What are we doing out here?" Harry asked.</p><p>"Well, I don't want to argue about this in front of our headmaster," Hermione replied, turning a bit red. It was bad enough he'd caught her snuggling against Harry in bed. She wasn't about to have a spat in front of him.</p><p>"They can still hear us out here," Harry pointed out, and when she glanced down the stairs, he added, "They can hear us there, too."</p><p>"Well," she huffed, "they'll do the polite thing and <em>pretend</em> they don't hear us then."</p><p>She folded her arms across her chest. "Why are you so angry?" she asked.</p><p>Harry looked dumbstruck. "Because Voldemort's back and you want to just go home where he can go after you whenever he wants instead of to Neville's where you'll be safe," he replied.</p><p>"I highly doubt I'm high on his list of priorities," Hermione shot back stubbornly.</p><p>Honestly, he'd just returned to full power. He'd be busy organizing his followers and dealing with the Ministry and—well, she wasn't sure what exactly, but she was sure it was more pressing than her.</p><p>And yet, a voice in the back of her head told her it <em>was</em> better to be cautious… a part of her knew she was just rationalizing it because she wanted to see her parents.</p><p>And Harry was really upset.</p><p>"Look, Harry," she said soothingly. "Let's see what Dumbledore thinks, okay? He knows You-Know-Who better than anyone."</p><p>Harry raised his eyebrows at her, and she understood his meaning: She'd spent the past few months questioning Dumbledore's judgment about the Dursleys and Snape, but <em>now</em> she wanted his opinion?</p><p>"Voldemort only spent a year attached to the back of Quirrell's head, watching me, getting to see who I hung around with. And he spent the better part of this year with just Pettigrew for company, and I'm sure my name didn't come up at all," Harry said sarcastically.</p><p>"I know that—"</p><p>"So Voldemort's got to know how important you are!" he added fiercely, moving closer to her.</p><p>"Well, I—"</p><p>Hermione wasn't sure what to say to that. She bit her lip.</p><p>"They're my parents," she whispered, feeling a little lost. She didn't quite know how to make Harry understand—he'd never had anyone outside of Hogwarts that he could come home to. This summer would be his first chance at that.</p><p>"It's already awkward enough with them," she confessed.</p><p>She felt Harry's demeanor change, his fact softening just a bit. She'd never really told him much about her relationship with her parents—oh, he knew they were dentists, and he knew about the activities they did together and the trips they'd taken, but she'd never really talked about anything deep. He seemed to understand that something new was happening.</p><p>"They don't understand a lot of what goes on in my life," she elaborated. "Oh, I know they love me, and they're amused when I send them books on dragon dentistry, but how can they possibly understand what goes on around here? I can't tell them about the time I was attacked by a troll or the time our teacher put me under the Imperius and almost killed Neville, or how we went back in time to stop a man from getting his soul sucked out. I've told them you were part of a tournament—but I made it sound like fun and games, like it was mostly harmless because how could I explain You-Know-Who? And even the normal things here—transfiguration and charms and potions—all of that is completely foreign to them. They can't relate at all! And if I stop going home, we'll practically be strangers."</p><p>She could feel tears starting to form in the back of her eyes, and looked up at him helplessly. Harry might not understand having people to come home to, but he certainly understood having parents you felt you didn't know. He pulled her into a hug, and she went willingly, breathing in his familiar scent.</p><p>"I just want you to be safe," he whispered, and she nodded against his shoulder.</p><p>A timid knock came from the other side of the door.</p><p>"I don't know if this will make a difference in your decision, but Professor Dumbledore said members of the Order of the Phoenix could look out for you, Hermione, if you go home," Neville called out.</p><p>Hermione felt even more torn. She didn't want to waste any of the Order's time on watching her. Surely, they must have more important things to do.</p><p>She stepped back. Harry looked slightly mollified by that news.</p><p>Hermione fiddled with her hands nervously, unsure what to do. Was she just being stubborn? Was she putting her parents in danger by going home? Would they be in danger anyway?</p><p>How could she possibly explain this to her parents if she <em>didn't</em> return home? It's not like she told them anything about You-Know-Who before this, so it would be a sizeable shock.</p><p>"Maybe—maybe I'll just go home for a bit?" she suggested, thinking it was a fairly good compromise. "I could come to the Manor by your birthdays."</p><p>This way, she'd get to see her parents, she wouldn't be taking up too much of the Order's time, and Harry wouldn't spend the whole summer he was supposed to be getting to know Sirius worrying about her.</p><p>And in the end, Harry procured a promise from Professor Dumbledore to set up the deluminator so that Hermione could call him if there were trouble, in addition to the Order's protection, and they all agreed that it was a solid plan.</p><p>They left quickly after that. Neville opted to go ahead and save them seats at the Leaving Feast, wisely thinking they might need a minute alone. She and Harry walked along, and Hermione realized with not a small amount of irritation that she had completely neglected to ask Dumbledore about Helga Hufflepuff's office.</p><p>"What?" Harry asked warily, having seen the aggravated look on her face, likely worrying that it was directed at him.</p><p>Hermione blew out a sigh. "I meant to ask Dumbledore about Hufflepuff, but I got sidetracked by…everything," she explained.</p><p>"By me advocating for your safety, you mean?" he asked.</p><p>"Honestly, Harry," she said, smiling slightly at his pout, "this overprotective thing is just a bit…"</p><p>She trailed off, searching for the right words. If she were completely honest with herself, she secretly liked it. She'd never be able to deal with someone who was a total caveman—she wanted her opinions and decisions to be respected, after all—but she liked the fact that Harry wanted to take care of her and keep her safe.</p><p>"Annoying," she finally said, before smiling at him and adding, "in an adorable sort of way."</p><p>Harry cocked his eyebrow at her and leaned closer. "Welcome to my life," he said. "You're a bit overprotective yourself, you know."</p><p>Hermione took his hand in hers possessively and smiled slyly. "Then I'd better make sure you get down to the feast safely," she said in her most authoritative tone. "You never know what's lurking about Hogwarts."</p><p>"My hero," he whispered in her ear, eliciting a shiver from her.</p><p>She tugged on his hand, but was already planning a pit stop behind the tapestry on the fifth floor. They could be a <em>little</em> late to the Feast—Neville was saving seats, after all.</p>
<hr/><p>The entrance hall was a chaotic mess the next morning. The Leaving Feast had been a fairly muted affair—Dumbledore had addressed the Triwizard Tournament one last time, and the mention of You-Know-Who dampened the mood for everyone… with the exception, of course, for the worst of the Slytherin lot. Harry had been exceedingly quiet through it all, avoiding everyone's gazes and speaking only to her, Neville, Viktor, Fleur and the Weasleys.</p><p>But this morning, Hogwarts was a bundle of energy as everyone readied to get in the carriages that would take them to the train. Hermione, Harry, Neville, Ron and Ginny stood slightly apart from the crowd in a cluster, avoiding the jostling of limbs as best they could. Both Viktor and Fleur made their way over—Fleur even gave Hermione a hug goodbye, much to her surprise—and Viktor promised to write both her and Harry.</p><p>"Ginny!"</p><p>The group turned, and saw Michael Corner, Terry Boot and Luna fighting through the crowd to make their way over to them. Michael gave Ginny a kiss hello; even though it was quite possibly the most chaste kiss Hermione had ever seen in her life, Ron still turned a furious shade of purple.</p><p>"Padma's gone ahead and is saving a compartment for us," Michael said, and with a quick goodbye to the Gryffindors, Ginny, Michael and Terry left the hall.</p><p>"I'd rather sit with you if that's all right," Luna stated. "Michael and his friends are only nice to me because it makes Ginny happy."</p><p>"We'd rather you sit with us anyway," Hermione offered kindly, looping her arm through Luna's. She started guiding them out the door and toward the carriages, but stopped short when Harry suddenly stopped, staring in confusion at the front of the nearest carriage.</p><p>Hermione wasn't quite sure why, exchanging a confused glance with Ron, but Neville and Luna both nodded in understanding.</p><p>"They're just thestrals," Luna said softly. "They've always been there—you just haven't been able to see them before."</p><p>"Why not?" Harry asked.</p><p>Hermione racked her brain for what she knew about thestrals. "They can only be seen by people who have seen death," she said, cringing inwardly on the last word.</p><p>They'd been in the room when Crouch Jr. died, but none of them had actually seen it. But Harry had watched both Winky and Barty Crouch Sr. die, so of course he could see thestrals now. It didn't escape her notice that both Neville and Luna appeared to see them as well.</p><p>"Right," Harry said awkwardly, clearly not wanting to talk about it, before opening the door to let Hermione and Luna inside.</p><p>The ride to the train was quiet, but the station was even more of a chaotic mess than the entrance hall. Hermione got elbowed by no less than three people, and Ron ran smack into Mandy Brocklehurst.</p><p>"Oh!" the Ravenclaw cried, before looking up at Ron. Her demeanor changed instantly, and she smiled brightly at him. "Oh! Hi, Ron!"</p><p>"Hi Mandy," he replied distractedly, avoiding a second year.</p><p>She smiled up at him, flicking some hair over her shoulder in a way Hermione had seen Parvati and Lavender practicing in the mirror in their dorm.</p><p>"Listen, a few of us from Chess Club were going to have a bit of a tournament on the train. I thought you might want to join—try to beat me after that horrific loss of yours at our last match," she said, grinning playfully at him.</p><p>Ron looked affronted. "You <em>barely</em> beat me," he argued, "and in case you've forgotten, I've beaten you at <em>least </em>six times this term."</p><p>Not that he had been counting, of course.</p><p>The others watched with interest as Mandy bantered back and forth with Ron about which one of them <em>actually</em> had more wins—as well as a confusing aside about Wimblebit's Knight Sacrifice and other chess moves, which none of them seemed to get but which Ron and Mandy laughed heartily about—before she leaned in, tapping him on the arm, and dared him to try his luck on the train.</p><p>Mandy smiled brightly. "Padma's saving a compartment for us, and—"</p><p>"Padma?" Ron said darkly, clearly remembering Michael Corner's comment. "No thanks. I don't really need to spend all day watching Corner snog my sister."</p><p>Mandy's eyes widened. "Oh," she said, clearly taken aback. "Well, all right then. Have a nice trip."</p><p>She waved awkwardly, and then left them.</p><p>Hermione gaped at Ron. "You cannot <em>possibly</em> be that daft," she said. "A girl comes over and flirts with you, and you complain about your sister kissing her boyfriend?"</p><p>"What?" Ron sputtered. "That wasn't—she wasn't—that was just a bit of competition—<em>flirting</em>, honestly…."</p><p>He looked around at Harry, Neville and Luna. "That wasn't flirting, was it?" he asked, a note of uncertainty in his voice that he suspected Hermione might be right.</p><p>Harry shrugged his shoulders, but Neville said sympathetically, "It seemed like it could be flirting to me."</p><p>"She talks about you a bit in the common room," Luna chimed in. "She stuck up for you when Padma said you were a right awful date to the Yule Ball. <em>She</em> was quite upset, you know, but Mandy said you weren't the git Padma was making you out to be."</p><p>Ron's ears turned red. "Well that's… I mean…" He puffed up a bit, smiling. "You know what? I'll catch you lot later!"</p><p>And then he ran off as fast as he could with the whole student body milling about.</p><p>For her part, Hermione felt like a weight had been lifted off her. One of the reasons she had been nervous to tell Ron about her and Harry was because Ginny had been so sure that Ron liked her—but he couldn't <em>possibly </em>like her if he was running off after another girl like that in front of her.</p><p>The ride home was fairly uneventful. The only bit of unpleasantness was when Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle interrupted their card game to crow about You-Know-Who's return and how mudbloods and blood traitors would be the first to go.</p><p>Of course, Malfoy had barely gotten his sentence out when all four of them stood and hexed the Slytherins—and they weren't alone. When Malfoy and his goons fell, Cedric was standing on the other side of the doorway, wand out and pointed at them.</p><p>"This one's always been a bit of a tosser, hasn't he?" Cedric said, frowning, as he levitated the three out into the corridor.</p><p>'That's putting it mildly," Neville retorted.</p><p>"Hexing other students—that's not exactly prefect behavior, is it?" Harry asked, smiling slightly at Cedric.</p><p>The Hufflepuff shrugged. "Following the rules doesn't apply when it comes to gits who use words like <em>that</em>," he said, with an awkward glance at Hermione.</p><p>She stiffened. With You-Know-Who back, she supposed she ought to get used to more looks like that.</p><p>Cedric joined them for a game of Exploding Snap, making plans to meet up with Luna in the village by their homes soon. It seemed that after reuniting with Luna at the Third Task, Cedric's mum had decided to take a bit more of an interest in her late best friend's daughter, and wanted to take them all to lunch.</p><p>After two rounds, Harry asked Cedric if he knew anything about Helga Hufflepuff's office.</p><p>"No," Cedric said, frowning slightly. "Although, maybe I'll find out about it next year."</p><p>He leaned in. "Professor Sprout told me confidentially that I'm a shoe in for Head Boy," he whispered. "And the Heads get told all kinds of secrets about Hogwarts."</p><p>"And you'd tell us?" Harry asked eagerly.</p><p>"Well, seeing as I got Head Boy in part because of you, yeah," Cedric replied, laughing a bit. "Professor Sprout said it was between me and Davey Willis, but the way we all worked together for the tournament put me over the top."</p><p><em>Good</em>. Hermione still hadn't forgiven Davey Willis for being a prefect who made firewhisky in the dorms. Cedric certainly deserved it over him.</p><p>And then it dawned on her. If Cedric got Head Boy because of the tournament, Dumbledore and McGonagall <em>had</em> to make Harry prefect—right? She'd been certain it would be him—he was obviously the best choice—but this just sealed it.</p><p>"What are you grinning at?" Harry asked, eyeing her curiously.</p><p>"Cedric's accomplishment," she replied, not wanting to get his hopes up in case she was wrong. But honestly, after everything he'd accomplished this past year, how could it <em>not </em>be Harry?</p><p>The only other awkward moment of their train ride was when she and Harry were left alone, and he'd very quietly told her that he wanted to tell Ron about them.</p><p>"He already thinks we don't trust him," he said. "And if we keep this from him, he's sort of got a point."</p><p>"I agree," Hermione said, nodding. "But I think it's best if we tell him and Ginny at the same time. I don't want her to be upset—"</p><p>"Why would she be upset?" Harry asked, his brows knit in confusion. "She's dating Corner."</p><p>"Yes, but I haven't confided in her about any of this at all," Hermione explained. "She might get really upset with me for keeping a secret for this long."</p><p>"It's only been… just how long <em>have</em> you fancied me?" he asked suspiciously.</p><p>"That's not the <em>point</em>," Hermione huffed, glaring at him, studiously avoiding the question.</p><p>Harry smiled affectionately at her annoyance. "What is the point then?" he asked.</p><p>"The <em>point</em> is that Ginny and Ron might be a little mad," she said. "So we should tell them when we can talk it out properly with them—me and Ginny, and you and Ron. Maybe Sirius can bring us to the Burrow this summer."</p><p>"We could just go find them now," Harry suggested, but Hermione was already shaking her head.</p><p>"I only get a very limited amount of time with you before I won't see you for weeks," she said. "And I don't want to spend it arguing with Ron and Ginny."</p><p>"I'm open to suggestions," Harry offered, leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin.</p><p>"Luna will be back from the lavatory in a minute," she chastised reluctantly, "and I don't want to make her uncomfortable!"</p><p>Harry eyed her. "So did your plans involve using me as a pillow while you read <em>Transfiguration Today</em>?" he asked.</p><p>"That was one option," she admitted.</p><p>Harry flicked his gaze toward the door and when Luna didn't materialize, he whispered, "We'll go with that plan—in a minute," and captured her lips with his.</p><p>By the time they reached King's Cross—she <em>did</em> get a chance to read the article about transfiguring seals into pigs, thank you very much—Harry was fairly jittery, craning his neck every which way for Augusta and Sirius. She'd never seen him so excited for summer before.</p><p>They stood with Neville, Luna and the Weasleys, anxiously awaiting their families.</p><p>Luna's dad arrived first, with Ginny promising to come round and see her soon. They waved goodbye to Angelina and Alicia, and Cedric and Cho, and Hannah brought her mum round so she could meet Hermione before Hermione came over. Hannah's mum, she could tell, recognized Hermione's name—she wasn't sure if that was because of Hermione's involvement in the investigation into Snape or Rita Skeeter's articles, but Mrs. Abbott was warm regardless, and Hermione liked her very much.</p><p>"Relax, Harry," Neville said once they were gone and Harry's restlessness reared up again. "They'll be here. They're probably just waiting for the crowd to thin out a bit so people aren't gawking at Sirius."</p><p>"How'd things go with Mandy?" Hermione asked Ron, thinking Harry could use a distraction.</p><p>But this turned out to be a very bad idea indeed because Fred and George found the idea of a girl fancying their younger brother incredibly funny, and they proceeded to interrogate Ron on what precisely was wrong with Mandy Brocklehurst that she'd take a liking to him, eventually coming to the conclusion that she must secretly be a blind half-goblin—that or she'd taken a fall from Ravenclaw Tower and severely damaged her head.</p><p>By the time Mr. and Mrs. Weasley showed up, Ron looked quite ready to be back at the Burrow where he could at least go to his room to escape his brothers.</p><p>And then she was left with Harry and Neville.</p><p>"You two are going to have the best summer of your lives," she said brightly.</p><p>"Well that won't be too hard to accomplish, considering all of my other summers were spent at the Dursleys," Harry pointed out.</p><p>Hermione saw her parents heading her way and smiled nervously. They had met Harry, of course, but he'd just been a friend then. And he'd been twelve.</p><p>Neville gave her a hug goodbye, but Harry had kneeled down so he was next to her cat carrier, and she could see he was now giving Crookshanks instructions.</p><p>"You're not to let her out of your sight at all," Harry said sternly, "and if you think anything's amiss, sit on her until she calls Dumbledore."</p><p>And Crookshanks seemed to understand because he swished his tail commandingly back at Harry. Harry nodded, and Hermione felt her insides turn to mush. She had been wrong: Harry and Crookshanks plotting was the most appealing thing she'd ever seen.</p><p>Harry stood and smiled at her. "Have fun with your parents," he said sincerely, and Hermione felt her heart lift a bit—he truly did understand.</p><p>She turned toward them—they weren't far now—and then turned back to Harry nervously. She'd kissed him plenty of times in the past week, but the thought of kissing him in front of her parents—when they didn't know anything about the recent developments—made her squirm a bit. Harry stood a little taller, and he was now looking past her anxiously; he seemed to have come to the same conclusion about not making a disastrous impression in front of her parents.</p><p>He patted his hair down nervously.</p><p>And then her parents were there, hugging her and saying hello to Harry, and introducing themselves to Neville. They asked the boys about school and how their year had gone, and Neville, bless him, chattered on about how much Harry and Hermione had helped him improve his grades this year because Harry looked too petrified to say anything of substance at the moment.</p><p>"Oh, look!" Hermione cried. "There's your gran and Sirius!"</p><p>The area was still well-packed with Hogwarts students and their families, but Augusta and Sirius were making their way toward them—truth be told, the crowd was parting for Sirius, whispering about him as he passed.</p><p>"We'd better go," Hermione said regretfully to the boys.</p><p>Her parents didn't know anything about Sirius' incarceration or You-Know-Who and she didn't want them finding out in the middle of King's Cross.</p><p>"I'll see you soon?" Harry asked.</p><p>Hermione felt a wave of sadness at the idea that she wouldn't see him every day, and on impulse, hugged him tightly to her, brushing her lips across his cheek, delighting in the way he sucked in a breath when she did so. She made to release him, but Harry tightened his hold, hugging her back, and she closed her eyes, memorizing the feel.</p><p>"I'll see you soon," she confirmed. "And I expect a letter from Hedwig even sooner."</p><p>Harry let her go, but his fingers lingered near her hand, close enough that they were almost touching.</p><p>"Well, Hedwig's a prolific writer, so that shouldn't be a problem," Harry teased, and Hermione grinned at his joke.</p><p>She waved at Harry and Neville as they made their way toward their guardians, and then turned to her parents.</p><p>"How do you feel about pizza for dinner?" her dad suggested with a glance toward Crookshanks, clearly thinking that eating at home would be better.</p><p>Thankfully, he seemed unaware of the change in her relationship with Harry. Her mum, however, raised her eyebrow at Hermione, her expression promising a more thorough conversation.</p><p>"That sounds great, dad," Hermione agreed, her face turning red as she avoided her mother's speculative gaze.</p><p>"What do you think, Bethie?" her dad asked, turning to her mum.</p><p>"Perfect," she agreed, looping her arm through Hermione's and grinning down at her warmly. "I can't wait to get you home and hear all about Hogwarts!"</p><p>Of course, Hermione got the distinct impression that "Hogwarts" was code for "Harry."</p><p>No matter. It might be a highly embarrassing conversation, but that was one of her favorite topics, too.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A/N: I don't normally do these, but just wanted to give a quick shout out to the HMS Harmony Discord. It's a great community with a lot of stellar discussions, drabbles, fic recs, etc., so if that's your thing and you love Harry/Hermione, I'd definitely recommend joining: discord dot gg/2GcXw8R</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0028"><h2>28. Chapter 28</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>While they walked through King's Cross, Sirius had a cool, unaffected air, as if he didn't notice the whispers and stares he got. When one particularly rude woman squawked at the sight of him, clutching her child behind her, Sirius merely smiled and winked at her while they passed. For her part, Augusta sneered down her nose at the woman, which was quite a feat considering Neville's gran was diminutive in stature and the woman eclipsed her by at least a foot.</p>
<p>Harry envied Sirius' ability to smile in the face of the whispers. It was something he'd never been able to master.</p>
<p>It wasn't until they were safely apparated away that the mask fell. Sirius' face changed completely, more tired, more downtrodden. He noticed Harry and Neville both watching him and grinned again.</p>
<p>"Still a bit of a shock seeing me, I guess," he reassured them. "They'll come around."</p>
<p>Harry didn't doubt it. He was well-acquainted with the fickle whims of the wizarding world, vacillating between declaring him a hero and a villain based on a snake or a cup or whether or not it happened to be Tuesday. Still, he wished they could get to the part where Sirius could have a normal life.</p>
<p>When they got to the manor, the hedges were no longer dancers, as they had been the last time Harry was here, but appeared to be upright cats playing a game of croquet. Harry caught Sirius' eye and grinned, knowing they were both thinking the same thing: How could this entrance <em>possibly </em>be approved by someone like Augusta Longbottom?</p>
<p>Harry was pleased to find out he'd be staying in the blue room across from Neville's again. Sirius, who had moved in a few days before, accompanied Harry and Neville to their rooms, bringing along their things.</p>
<p>"My room is one floor down—the one with the paisley wallpaper," Sirius said.</p>
<p>"That doesn't exactly narrow it down," Neville commented.</p>
<p>"The <em>brown and orange</em> paisley."</p>
<p>"Ah, so the truly awful wallpaper then," Neville mused, nodding his head sagely.</p>
<p>That room was set quite apart from everyone else's, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if Augusta was trying to give Sirius some privacy. Did he get nightmares sometimes, too?</p>
<p>Neville left Harry and Sirius at the door to the blue room. After placing Harry's trunk, Sirius stood there silently, restlessly, as if he didn't want to go but wasn't sure what to say. He paced about the room a bit, inspecting the furniture thoroughly.</p>
<p>Harry began unpacking his things, taking out his school robes, his dress robes and his shabby assortment of clothing—Dudley's old castoffs and a small pile of Weasley jumpers.</p>
<p>"The wallpaper really is quite bad in my room," Sirius said, "though Augusta's been a good sport about us staying here. She said I could change it if I wanted."</p>
<p>He looked around and added, "You too, of course. If you wanted a different color or something."</p>
<p>He looked down at Harry's things. "Green, perhaps?"</p>
<p>Harry felt his stomach clench. It's not that he <em>didn't </em>like green. Mrs. Weasley had said she liked green on him because of his eyes, but Harry couldn't see his eyes unless he was looking in a mirror. When he thought of the color green, he usually first thought of Slytherin… and, on occasion, he thought of that faint bit of memory he had, made all the clearer by the dementors—Voldemort murdering his mother.</p>
<p>It wasn't all the time, of course—most of the time green was just green—but he liked those jumpers because Mrs. Weasley had cared enough to make them for him, not because of the color. If he'd had a choice, he probably would've picked red or blue or something else entirely. And if it was all the same, he'd rather <em>not</em> have a green room.</p>
<p>"No," he said. "I like blue. Green's…"</p>
<p>He trailed off awkwardly, but comprehension dawned on Sirius' face and he nodded.</p>
<p>"Blue's nice," Sirius agreed, and then his mask was back, a charming smile on his face. "But whatever you do, look out. I've only been here a few days, and I've caught the house elf coming at me with scissors <em>twice</em>. According to Augusta, I've got the hair of a mangy cur—of course, I <em>was</em> one the past two years, mind you—and I can't imagine she likes the look of your hair either."</p>
<p>Harry felt for the tips of his hair instinctively—his hair was an unruly mess as usual. "Aunt Petunia's tried giving me awful haircuts," he said. "It grew back overnight."</p>
<p>In the end, Augusta won out on the haircut front, at least as far as Sirius was concerned. Over breakfast in the mornings she'd mutter about the vagrant at her table, and in the evenings when they'd all listen to the radio she'd ask Sirius what sort of woman would be attracted to that lanky mess, and, finally, she bet him in a game of cards—if she won, he cut his hair; if he won, he could transfigure hers pink.</p>
<p>"Gran <em>never</em> loses," Neville whispered to Harry as Diggy was cutting off Sirius' locks. "Because she cheats."</p>
<p>Harry didn't think that was particularly fair, but he had to admit Sirius looked much better with shorter hair. It was still long enough to fall in his face a bit—Sirius was adamant that he didn't want to look like someone who worked for the Floo Regulation Authority—but he looked like anyone else who hadn't spent the past 14 years as a criminal.</p>
<p>And when it was all over Diggy told Harry confidentially, "Master Frank always kept his hair and beard neat and trim. It made him feel normal after a particularly bad day at work."</p>
<p>And Harry was for anything that made Sirius feel normal.</p>
<p>In addition to the haircut, they all took a trip to the local muggle town—Augusta and Sirius deemed it safe enough for Harry to go for one quick trip—so that Sirius and Harry could get some clothes that actually fit. Sirius splurged on Harry quite a bit, buying jeans and jumpers and t-shirts in just about every color—though there was a noticeable lack of green.</p>
<p>"That wasn't so bad," Sirius commented when they were done.</p>
<p>Neither he nor Augusta had really talked about it, but Harry gathered that their excursion to Diagon Alley while Harry and Neville had still been at Hogwarts had been a bit more eventful—Augusta got a peevish look on her face any time it was mentioned at any rate.</p>
<p>If the scene at King's Cross was any indication, he could only imagine the scene they had created then.</p>
<p>Where Augusta won on the haircut issue, Sirius won on others, like the swimming issue. On the first particularly hot day, Neville suggested going in the lake.</p>
<p>"Make sure to take your gillyweed," Augusta warned, not looking up from her paper.</p>
<p>"What's he need gillyweed for?" Sirius asked, a look of total confusion on his face.</p>
<p>"I almost drowned once," Neville told him, "when my uncle dropped me off a pier. Gran's made me use gillyweed ever since."</p>
<p>"Well, we can't have you go drowning <em>again," </em>Gran muttered. Her face was still behind her paper, but from the gruff note in her voice, Harry thought perhaps Neville's drowning had scared her more than she let on.</p>
<p>Sirius did not seem shocked at this piece of Neville's past—Harry had gathered from years at Hogwarts that wizarding children were used to being dropped off piers or buildings, or bitten by creatures with sharp fangs, or turned into a hedgehog for a little while by accident, and Sirius had once been a wizarding child—but Sirius <em>did </em>seem shocked by the gillyweed.</p>
<p>"Seems a bit stupid to rely on a plant when we can just teach them how to swim," he replied incredulously, as if Augusta were a small child he had to explain a simple task to.</p>
<p>And so, Sirius set out to teach both Neville and Harry just that. First, he showed them in human form and then he chased them around the water in dog form, all the while Augusta sat primly on a bench she transfigured near the lake, ostensibly reading her book but she never seemed to turn the page.</p>
<p>And, quite honestly, it wasn't that hard once Harry got the hang of it. Soon they were racing to a buoy Sirius placed in the middle of the lake, and while he or Harry usually won, the time Neville got there first, they all made celebratory cake with Diggy.</p>
<p>Once Sirius was certain they wouldn't drown a horrific death, he began charming the lake, creating fountains when they least expected it, lifting them up into the air, and giant waves for them to body surf.</p>
<p>This was always Harry's favorite time of day. When Sirius was bewitching the waves, he actually smiled—not the mask smile—and even Neville, who tended to avoid even halfway-dangerous situations, seemed to thoroughly enjoy the waves, beaming after they'd surfed toward shore. For a few moments, swimming with Sirius and Neville, Harry could imagine that he was living the life his mum and Alice had planned for.</p>
<p>On days when it was too cold to swim, the three of them played games of exploding snap. And when Neville wanted to spend time working in his greenhouse, Harry and Sirius played swivenhodge—a game where you sat backwards on your broom, using the end of it to lob a ball over a hedge, sort of like tennis—which Sirius swore could help with broom precision in quidditch.</p>
<p>Harry wasn't sure if that was true, but swivenhodge was fun anyway. Harry especially liked the times after the games when he and Sirius would lay in the grass catching their breath, and Sirius would tell him some story or another of the time his dad scored 600 points in a single quidditch match, or the time his mum was the first to master nonverbal spells in class, and she proved it by stunning his dad.</p>
<p>After his conversation with them in the graveyard, after he got a chance to hear their voices—and not their yells or their pleadings—Harry could almost picture what they must have been like back then.</p>
<p>"Were they always friends?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Sirius was quiet for a moment before answering. "No."</p>
<p>Harry figured that was the case considering what Sirius had written when he'd given Harry advice about Hermione.</p>
<p>"They were both stubborn and liked to be right, so they had a bit of a rivalry in classes," Sirius added. "I think that's why your dad always fancied her so much—he liked being challenged."</p>
<p>"And outside of classes?" Harry asked, staring up at a cloud that looked like a rabbit.</p>
<p>"Your mum didn't always approve of our extracurricular activities," Sirius laughed, making Harry think he was perhaps sugarcoating things a bit. "Their senses of humor were a bit different. And on the surface, they didn't have much in common—she didn't care much for quidditch, they had different circles of friends, and she was a prefect while we spent a fair bit of time in detention."</p>
<p>"So what changed then?"</p>
<p>Harry turned his head to look at Sirius, whose face had grown more contemplative, more serious.</p>
<p>"Where it counted, they had everything in common," Sirius said. "There was a war on, and your parents had the same beliefs, the same values. As we got older and things became more real, well, all of us marauders grew up a bit—the others a bit more than me, of course. And your mum was able to see who your dad really was."</p>
<p>Harry gazed up at the clouds—puffy clouds perfect for jumping on—and thought of Hermione. Some people might write him off as a jock and her as a nerd—and it was true that he preferred the quidditch pitch, while she liked the library—but at their core, they believed the same things, too.</p>
<p>"That makes sense," Harry murmured.</p>
<hr/>
<p>It wasn't all fun and games and reminiscing, of course.</p>
<p>When they sat down to dinner on their very first night—the four of them plus Remus, who had come to see how Harry and Sirius had settled in—Harry asked about the Order of the Phoenix and what was going on with Voldemort. Sirius sat back in his chair, a proud smile on his face, while Augusta eyed him shrewdly. Remus looked like he knew the question was coming and shot a significant glance toward Sirius.</p>
<p>"Voldemort's been lying low for now," Sirius said, avoiding Remus' gaze, "since his comeback didn't exactly go off as planned."</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Harry asked, exchanging a confused look with Neville.</p>
<p>"Well, he didn't exactly expect Dumbledore to show up in the middle of it, did he?" Sirius asked. "Nor did he expect you to survive. And now he's got to deal with Dumbledore alerting everyone in the wizarding world to the fact that he's back."</p>
<p>"Is it working?" Harry asked. "We haven't talked to Dumbledore about it since that talk with you the day Rita's first article came out."</p>
<p>"There are plenty who believe him. Though Fudge is still clinging to Pettigrew's version of the story," Remus answered.</p>
<p>Apparently, whatever he had been trying to warn Sirius not to say did not extend to Fudge.</p>
<p>Sirius sneered when Remus said Pettigrew's name.</p>
<p>"And there are people who believe Fudge?" Harry asked, not understanding how anyone could be so blind to the truth when Dumbledore himself was telling everyone what he saw.</p>
<p>"It's not so much that they believe Fudge as they don't want to believe Voldemort is back," Sirius explained.</p>
<p>Harry was getting tired of hearing that—people were idiots.</p>
<p>"And they won't believe it until people are routinely coming home from work to find their families dead in their sitting rooms, the Dark Mark hovering over their houses," Augusta added, her voice sharp and cutting.</p>
<p>Sirius nodded at her grimly. "But we're doing our part there," he said. "Amelia Bones, Amos Diggory and Arthur Weasley are doing their best to spread the truth throughout the Ministry without doing anything so overt as to get them fired. Amelia has even gotten some new recruits for the Order of the Phoenix."</p>
<p>Sirius shot Augusta a fond smile. "And <em>this</em> one has probably done more than any of them," he said.</p>
<p>Harry's eyes darted to Neville and saw his friend was just as confused as he was.</p>
<p>"She's playing parlor politics," Sirius explained, taking a sip of his water.</p>
<p>"What's parlor politics?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"The battle of the biddies," Sirius said, although that still didn't explain anything to Harry. "Fudge and Dumbledore are still locked in this battle over whether Voldemort is back or not, and Ministry officials have to tread carefully lest they lose their jobs. But what can they threaten old Augusta with?"</p>
<p>Harry looked at the grim-faced battle-axe with the snarled claws for hands. There was nothing they could do to her.</p>
<p>"So you're just going to people's houses and telling them Voldemort's back?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Augusta surveyed him. "You don't just <em>tell</em> people he's back," she said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "There's an art to it. Parlors are a place meant for gossip and for making the other person feel incredibly dumb for not being in the know."</p>
<p>Harry gathered that Augusta was probably very good at making other people feel dumb.</p>
<p>"In any case, Mildred Coote—that dreadful hag—and Addie Dawson have seen the light, and <em>their</em> husbands think whatever they want them to, so at least these visits haven't been completely worthless," Augusta griped.</p>
<p>Neville caught Harry's eye and grinned. His gran loved complaining, but it was obvious to anyone that she very much enjoyed her role in the cause.</p>
<p>"What else is the Order doing?" Neville asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"Mostly, we're just doing whatever we can to make sure Voldemort can't carry out his plans," Sirius said.</p>
<p>"What are his plans?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"He's trying to build up his army again," Sirius explained. "In the old days, he had his faithful Death Eaters, as well as people he'd bullied or imperiused to follow his orders, dark creatures as his allies. Hagrid's reaching out to the giants and Remus here is trying to make inroads with the werewolves."</p>
<p>He glanced at Remus, whom Harry supposed looked more tired than usual.</p>
<p>"How's that going?" Harry asked, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.</p>
<p>"Slowly," Remus said, looking a bit amused. "Werewolves aren't <em>particularly</em> trusting, so there's not much I could do in a week."</p>
<p>"Ridiculous," Augusta muttered. "They're the ones who go around biting children—oh not <em>you</em>, of course, I know that, but the packs are a different story. And <em>they're</em> distrustful of us?"</p>
<p>She looked like someone had just set off a bunch of dungbombs. Augusta liked Remus—he was the only professor aside from Professor Sprout who'd ever taken an interest in Neville, after all—but she considered him to be <em>different</em> from the werewolves who chose to live in packs. Harry didn't know much about them, but he didn't think they could <em>all </em>be bad. It's not like they had chosen to become werewolves either.</p>
<p>Sirius' face was dark. "They don't <em>all</em> go around biting children, any more than all purebloods go around joining the Death Eaters," he retorted.</p>
<p>"Says the only halfway decent member of the Black family in a thousand years," Augusta sniped.</p>
<p>"The difference is all Blacks are raised from birth to be raving lunatics who believe in the myth of blood superiority," he replied. "Werewolves aren't born to kill—they're not even born werewolves—and being turned into one doesn't suddenly make you a killer."</p>
<p>"No, but living apart from society certainly does create a hive mind mentality," Augusta pointed out.</p>
<p>"Well, whose fault is that?" Sirius snapped. "Maybe if we actually treated them like they were human—"</p>
<p>Remus cleared his throat awkwardly, and Augusta and Sirius glared at each other, haughty expressions on both of their faces. Neville and Harry shared a nervous glance—though they would come to find out in the coming weeks that Augusta and Sirius both got a perverse sort of pleasure from arguing politics with each other. It usually ended with Augusta snarking that the Blacks were a bunch of degenerate loons, and Sirius correcting her that they were actually <em>inbred</em> degenerate loons, and then they'd share a good laugh about it.</p>
<p>"In any case," Remus said mildly, "that's why letting people know Voldemort's back is so important. If we can keep him from getting allies and put people on guard for a potential Imperius attack, we can keep his numbers from growing."</p>
<p>"We know he called his Death Eaters to him not long after he returned," Sirius added, still looking like he wanted to say something about the werewolves, but forging ahead anyway. "He's not particularly pleased with them—"</p>
<p>"Why not?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Because while Voldemort's spent the past fourteen years barely surviving, the Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban have been living their best lives, hardly giving him a thought," Sirius pointed out. "You think the Lucius Malfoys of the world are happy he's back? Lucius has spent the entirety of Fudge's term whispering in his ear, getting the man to do his bidding, and now he's got to play second fiddle to Voldemort again."</p>
<p>"And the way Voldemort sees it, Lucius and the others <em>could</em> have spent that time finding and helping him," Remus added. "The Death Eaters who escaped Azkaban are the least loyal of his followers."</p>
<p>"So could they be turned?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>Sirius let out a bark of laughter. "No," he sneered. "Too cowardly. It was all well and good for them to pretend they were never Death Eaters when Voldemort was in the wind, but now that he's back in full power? They'll be too afraid of him to do anything but his bidding."</p>
<p>"What about Snape, then?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>All of the adults exchanged a look.</p>
<p>"Dumbledore trusts him," Remus finally said with a sharp glance toward Sirius.</p>
<p>"And he's apparently sold his return to Voldemort well enough," Sirius added.</p>
<p>Though the way Sirius said it, Harry was certain he'd be perfectly happy if Voldemort saw through Snape's spy act and killed him where he stood.</p>
<hr/>
<p>After that night, Sirius and Augusta kept them pretty well up to date on the comings and goings of the Order of the Phoenix, as well as any tidbits of news that they got.</p>
<p>Augusta also took great pleasure in explaining current events to them. In the mornings, she and Sirius would read the<em> Daily Prophet</em>, calling out their favorite Rita Skeeter-isms.</p>
<p>"She called Fudge a bloviating bonehead!" Augusta murmured approvingly.</p>
<p>"That's nothing," Sirius remarked. "Look, later on she calls him the 'human equivalent of flobberworm feces.'"</p>
<p>Fudge had apparently taken issue with Rita's first article about Voldemort and had tried to get her fired, but the <em>Daily Prophet </em>had seen a spike in sales and refused. Or maybe Rita just had blackmail material on the paper's owners—anything was possible with her.</p>
<p>Rita, miffed at Fudge's actions and secure in the knowledge that the newspaper had her back, had made destroying Fudge her new mission. Or, at least, that's what Hermione had gathered.</p>
<p><em>I tried to give him a chance,</em> she wrote to Harry, <em>but as he's still carrying on this nonsense I don't mind what Rita says about him until or unless he admits to the truth.</em></p>
<p>Harry certainly wasn't feeling charitable toward Fudge—especially after Pettigrew got sentenced to Azkaban for the explosion years ago, but his trial for kidnapping Harry was put on hold. "For the safety of the Boy Who Lived, of course," Fudge told the reporters. "There's no need to put him through that when Pettigrew is already serving a life sentence for his crime 14 years ago."</p>
<p>Of course, anyone with a brain knew it was because he didn't want Harry and Dumbledore testifying in court.</p>
<p>"Amelia's not fighting him on it because there's no point," Sirius explained. "Dumbledore's telling the story to anyone who will listen anyway, trial or no trial."</p>
<p>There was the time Dumbledore gave a speech to the Wizengamot about Voldemort, and the ensuing fight over whether or not he had returned had ended in Mervyn Doge turning Giles Oldershaw into a rooster. And then there was the ICW meeting that almost ended the same way—except the Bulgarian ambassador backed Dumbledore up.</p>
<p>"The Bulgarian minister doesn't like Fudge," Harry told the others. "Pretended he didn't speak English during the whole Quidditch World Cup."</p>
<p>And then there were the smaller news items—like Amelia Bones making reforms in the DMLE, reforms that Sirius told them were designed to ready the department to fight Voldemort while still giving Amelia plausible deniability where Fudge was concerned.</p>
<p>Or the four-legged magical creatures act that Amos Diggory introduced, the details of which made Harry's eyes glaze over but which Sirius found incredibly promising.</p>
<p>"This'll make Remus' job a bit easier," he told them.</p>
<p>"What's this got to do with werewolves?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Sirius grinned bitterly. "A couple of years ago, Umbridge introduced anti-werewolf legislation that made it impossible for Moony to get a job," he explained. "And other werewolves, too. If you read between the lines of 'properly licensing your hippogriff' and 'guidance on severing your crup's tail,' he's rolled back those werewolf restrictions a bit."</p>
<p>"Why doesn't he just roll them back fully?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"He can't," Neville replied. "People would have a fit."</p>
<p>Sirius eyed Neville approvingly. "That's right," he said. "He'd probably never get it passed. But a little tweak here, a little tweak there, and suddenly, you've got loopholes."</p>
<p>Amos Diggory had never seemed like the type to care much about magical creatures—his treatment of Winky certainly hadn't been great—but he at least seemed committed to the Order's cause.</p>
<p>Or, at least, that's what Hermione said in her letter to Harry a couple of days later, having read between the lines of the latest legislation. Remus delivered it to him directly so it couldn't be intercepted—he always seemed to pop in for dinner on days he had spent guarding Hermione's house—telling Harry that Hermione looked well and was exceedingly safe.</p>
<p>He was glad to hear it, though Harry wasn't sure he'd fully believe that until Hermione was safely at the manor. Still, he was eager for any information he could get about her.</p>
<p>While Harry knew where Augusta was going when she left in the afternoons, Sirius <em>also </em>spent a fair bit of time outside of the house—and he knew it wasn't to guard Hermione since he was certain Sirius would tell him if he'd seen her.</p>
<p>"Where are you always going?" Harry asked one morning when they were exploring the grounds with Buckbeak, who had also taken refuge with them.</p>
<p>"Sometimes to Hogwarts," Sirius said. "Remus and I taught Flitwick how we made the Marauders Map, and he's got a few improvements."</p>
<p>"You're making more maps?"</p>
<p>Sirius nodded. "These will be a bit different. Flitwick is enchanting them to sound an alarm if anyone shows up on the map who shouldn't be there. And, since we know Voldemort could use house elves again, Dobby is imbuing the maps with a bit of house-elf magic to alert the user if any non-Hogwarts elf turns up."</p>
<p>"I didn't know he could do that," Harry commented.</p>
<p>"House-elf magic is different from wizarding magic," Sirius replied. "We don't fully understand it and so we can't always block against it, but house elves do and they can."</p>
<p>"Who's going to have these maps?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Dumbledore. A few other professors that he trusts."</p>
<p>Harry felt a pit in his stomach. "Snape?"</p>
<p>Sirius laughed bitterly, a grim expression on his face. "You think I'd ever let anything <em>I </em>create in Snivellus' hands?" he sneered. "No, McGonagall and Flitwick will do just fine."</p>
<p>Harry was glad that Hogwarts would be better protected, but he <em>did </em>feel the loss of the Marauders Map. If the professors had it, they'd be able to see anytime he was sneaking around Hogwarts—which, if the past was any indication, was quite a lot.</p>
<p>Sirius eyed him carefully, and then laughed more mirthfully.</p>
<p>"Honestly, Harry, these maps are for alerting Dumbledore to outside threats," he said. "I highly doubt any of them will be used to see whether you and Hermione are snogging in a broom closet after hours."</p>
<p>Harry felt his face burn red. When he and Remus had gone to see Sirius the day of the Third Task, <em>most </em>of their conversation had been about the tournament. But Sirius had asked how well his advice had worked and Harry had stupidly told them about the kiss. Sirius had grinned quite thoroughly, clearly pleased with himself even though it had been Harry who had done all the work, and Remus had had a superior sort of demeanor, as if he'd known all along that something like this would happen.</p>
<p>"We don't go snogging in broom closets," Harry retorted.</p>
<p>Hermione deserved much better than a dusty old broom closet.</p>
<p>Sirius' grin widened, as if he didn't believe a word Harry said.</p>
<p>"In any case," Sirius added, "I think you'll be safe to use the map next year—within reason, of course. Stick to the castle and don't go wandering about Hogsmeade unsupervised."</p>
<p>Harry nodded. He'd never had much reason to go to Hosmeade when it wasn't a Hogsmeade weekend, so that wasn't a hard promise to make.</p>
<p>"So that's really the only place you're going?" Harry asked. "To Hogwarts?"</p>
<p>Sirius looked down. "Sometimes I go to meetings for the Order of the Phoenix, at headquarters."</p>
<p>"Where's that?" Harry asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"Can't say," Sirius shook his head. "It's under the Fidelius, too."</p>
<p>"Why couldn't this place just be the headquarters?" Harry asked, perplexed. It was already protected, and then Harry could get to know more of what was going on.</p>
<p>"Absolutely not." Sirius shook his head, his tone sharp and resolute. "The only people who know about this place are the people currently here, Hermione, Dumbledore and Remus. And it's going to stay that way."</p>
<p>"Why?"</p>
<p>Sirius sighed. "Because this secret is only safe as long as Dumbledore is alive," he said. "And as Augusta quite rightly pointed out to me, we're in a war and Dumbledore is old."</p>
<p>Harry couldn't conceive of fighting this war against Voldemort <em>without</em> Dumbledore.</p>
<p>"I'm not saying he's going anywhere anytime soon," Sirius said, reading Harry's expression. "Dumbledore will probably live to be 300. But when he does die, if this Fidelius is still in effect, every person who knows the secret will become a secret keeper."</p>
<p>His face darkened. "And while Dumbledore may trust everyone in the Order, <em>I </em>don't and neither does Augusta," he said, and Harry knew he meant Snape. "I want to make sure you—and Neville and Hermione—always have this place to go to."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, but couldn't help but feel vexed. He was sitting here swimming and playing games while there was a war on. Everyone was hell bent on protecting him, but he wanted to be doing <em>something</em>.</p>
<p>"I can help, you know," he blurted out. "I'm not just some kid."</p>
<p>After Crouch Jr. had attacked Harry and his friends, Sirius had made it clear that he thought Harry should be focused on school.</p>
<p>"I know that," Sirius said softly. "No one denies what you can do, Harry. There aren't many people who could fight off Voldemort the way you did in the graveyard."</p>
<p>They continued walking side by side, Buckbeak rambling off on occasion to sniff at a rock.</p>
<p>"Voldemort fought differently with me than he did with Dumbledore," Harry said. "With me, it was all Crucios and curses. But with Dumbledore…"</p>
<p>"Let me guess," Sirius said dryly. "One of them conjured a dragon, which the other transfigured into a thousand flaming arrows, which then got turned into a knight the size of a giant."</p>
<p>"Well—basically, yeah. How'd you know?"</p>
<p>Sirius laughed. "Because that's what happens when you get two showoffs together," he replied. "They can't help proving how much better at magic they are. It was the same during the first war. Remus, your parents and I, we crossed paths with Voldemort a time or two, and he always tried to get rid of us expediently, while Dumbledore got the theatrics. That is, of course, until your dad conjured up a swarm of bees to attack him. Then, Voldemort started attacking him with twisters and conjured bears."</p>
<p>"What did dad do?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"Turned the bear into ice daggers," Sirius replied, shrugging his shoulder lightly.</p>
<p>Harry grinned, and felt a bit of certainty in what he had to do next. Voldemort only fought that way against people he respected—and those were the only sort of people he could ever really fear.</p>
<p>Harry stopped walking and turned toward Sirius. "Could you… could you teach me how to duel like that?" he asked.</p>
<p>Sirius studied Harry, a thousand emotions flitting across his face: pride, love, fear, and finally resolve.</p>
<p>"Of course," he replied.</p>
<p>And so, Harry and Sirius started spending a few hours a day in the Auror Room. Harry thought Sirius was going to teach him some exciting bits of conjuration and transfiguration—fireballs and gargoyles and the like—so when Sirius told him what he'd be learning it was a bit of a letdown.</p>
<p>"Bubbles," Harry said incredulously, repeating what Sirius had just said.</p>
<p>"Yes, bubbles."</p>
<p>He looked at Harry, a completely serious expression on his face.</p>
<p>"<em>Bubbles</em>."</p>
<p>"Transfiguring in a duel is not like transfiguring in class. You can't afford to get it wrong, so you've got to start small," Sirius explained.</p>
<p>"But… bubbles?" Harry asked, perplexed, earning a laugh from Sirius.</p>
<p>"Think of it this way," he said. "Voldemort conjures something and you turn it into bubbles. How will he react?"</p>
<p>"With a snide comment about how stupid bubbles are, I expect," Harry snarked.</p>
<p>Sirius' grin grew wider. "Exactly," he said. "So he turns the bubbles into a stampede of wildebeests, and you turn that back into bubbles. Now what is he thinking?"</p>
<p>"That I'm an idiot?"</p>
<p>"And after the third, fourth and fifth time?" Sirius asked.</p>
<p>Harry contemplated that, wondering how he'd feel. "He'd be annoyed… maybe vexed? But wouldn't he just go back to Crucios then?"</p>
<p>"And that's when you conjure up a swarm of bees," Sirius replied. "And then you go back to bubbles."</p>
<p>"But what's the point?" Harry asked. "To make him angry?"</p>
<p>Sirius looked victorious. "And angry people make mistakes," he said. "Look, the fact is, it would take all of us—not just you—decades to amass the type of magical knowledge that Voldemort and Dumbledore have. So we've got to create other advantages. Like annoying Voldemort into making a mistake. Getting him to underestimate us."</p>
<p>"So… bubbles," Harry said, this time without the incredulous tone.</p>
<p>And so Harry transfigured everything that Sirius conjured—from balls to giant trees to a bunch of roosters—into bubbles. Some worked better than others, but eventually Harry got it to a point where he was not just creating bubbles, but bubbles in the shape of silver stars and gold bells.</p>
<p>"Fantastic," Sirius crowed. "Soon we can move on to something a little harder."</p>
<p>"Like rose petals?" Harry retorted, but couldn't help but feel a little proud of himself anyway.</p>
<p>Neville sometimes joined them in the Auror Room, and Sirius taught him too, helping him to master some of the spells Harry had spent fourth year learning for the Third Task.</p>
<p>Of course, things were a little different with Sirius as a teacher. Where Harry, Hermione and Neville had used the Auror Room to conjure up objects they could summon and blow up, Sirius didn't indicate any specific spell they wanted to learn when he touched the stone on the wall.</p>
<p>"Fight training," he'd say, and the room would be filled with objects they could use in their fight—whether to use for cover, to transfigure into something else, or to use against their opponents as is.</p>
<p>And then chaos ensued, with Harry and Neville fighting together against Sirius. He was unpredictable in dueling, as likely to turn one of the discs into a rubber chicken as he was a snowball packed with ice.</p>
<p>"You've got to use your environment," Sirius called out when Harry and Neville were ducking down behind a dresser. "Duels don't take place in a vacuum."</p>
<p>Harry wiped some sweat from his face. Neville looked equally as tired. This was just like the fight with Crouch Jr.—Harry had used the broken furniture in the room then, too.</p>
<p>"Reducto!" he shouted, shooting a vase toward Sirius' head, which Sirius handily turned into a cluster of bubbles.</p>
<p>He turned toward Harry and grinned. "See?" he said. "Bubbles."</p>
<p>After one of their training sessions, Sirius was explaining the intricacies of protection spells to them.</p>
<p>"Protego you know, obviously," he said, as he tapped his wand to the stone to set the Auror Room to rights. "But there are all sorts of others—protection spells for areas, for objects, and one extremely specific one for pet iguanas."</p>
<p>He turned toward Neville. "Your dad had a pretty good book about them. We can see if we can find it in the library."</p>
<p>The "library" was a medium-sized room with a bookshelf running the length of one wall, and a few cozy chairs for sitting. It said a lot about how much Hermione liked the Secret Garden that they hardly spent any time there during Easter break.</p>
<p>"Oh no," Neville said, blushing slightly. "Any books that had to do with work wouldn't be in there… They'd be in their office."</p>
<p>Harry and Sirius exchanged puzzled glances. They hadn't seen any office in any of their explorations of the house.</p>
<p>Neville looked between them, fidgeting a bit, his desire to see his dad's book and learn more about protection spells warring with… something else on his face.</p>
<p>He sighed, squaring his shoulders resolutely. "Come on," he said, leading them out of the Auror Room and, to Harry's surprise, toward the door he always hurried past. Neville stood in front of it for a moment, completely silent, before reaching for the doorknob with a shaking hand.</p>
<p>The room was neat and bright—as soon as the door opened light flooded the space and a fire roared to life in the fireplace. Next to the fireplace was another closed door. Books lined the walls behind two dark mahogany desks that stood facing each other. On one, there was a magical eye, sitting in what Harry assumed was a preservation potion.</p>
<p>Sirius eyed the eye sadly, before moving to the bookshelf behind the other desk. Harry followed him. Neville hovered awkwardly near the doorway, an anguished sort of look on his face.</p>
<p>Harry looked down at the desk—there was a piece of parchment in the middle, a quill and inkwell perched next to it. He studied the handwriting—it was a report on the capture of a Death Eater named Nigel Pritchard, though by the looks of it, it hadn't been finished. It was dated November of 1981.</p>
<p>Harry felt his stomach clench, realizing instantly why Neville hated this room. Absolutely nothing had changed from the day his parents had been captured. It was like it was frozen in time, waiting for them to come back. Like they'd suddenly become sane, come home, and resume writing reports on Death Eaters long since sent to Azkaban. Even the fireplace had been waiting to welcome them.</p>
<p>He avoided looking at Neville, figuring he wouldn't want all the attention, but was extremely relieved when Sirius plucked a book from the top shelf. Harry glanced at Neville, whose eyes were staring pointedly at a spot on the floor.</p>
<p>"Come on," Harry muttered, pulling Neville out of the room. "Let's see if Diggy's got any biscuits."</p>
<hr/>
<p>While Harry enjoyed his days at Wiggentree Manor, the nights were another story. Every night, it seemed, he was plagued by dreams of the graveyard—the snake sinking its teeth into Crouch, Winky's vacant eyes, the feel of the Cruciatus Curse. Sometimes these dreams morphed into the ones about his parents' death, and sometimes he just felt the constant pain of the curse, waking up in a cold sweat, his limbs jerking around violently, his scar burning.</p>
<p>No one ever said anything about the nightmares to him, and he didn't mention them to the others. Dumbledore already knew about his scar dreams, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why he was dreaming of the graveyard.</p>
<p>Still, when Harry left his room early in the mornings, Neville was up too, a haunted look on his face. He had to have heard Harry's yells—their rooms were too close not to—but he never said anything directly. He merely asked if Harry wanted to go downstairs for a cup of tea, or to go question the portraits about Hufflepuff's office. They did both quite frequently, though hadn't had much success figuring out Hufflepuff's secrets.</p>
<p>And <em>that</em> didn't exactly help Harry's mood either. He couldn't do anything for the fight against Voldemort here; the least he could do is make some progress on the house-elf front.</p>
<p>Instead, when Sirius disappeared for some mission for the Order and couldn't go swimming with Harry and Neville, the two boys found themselves fruitlessly pestering the portraits or looking through some dusty old history books in the library.</p>
<p>Neville looked up at Harry one of those days and grinned. "If Hermione could see us now," he noted.</p>
<p>Harry practically snorted. "She'd probably be mad at us for doing this without her," he replied.</p>
<p>He'd gotten a few letters from Hermione, but not nearly enough. The first had been a thank you note for his sneakoscope. He'd unpacked it on that first night, and gotten incredibly angry with himself. How could he have forgotten about it?</p>
<p>He'd sent it off with Hedwig right away with instructions for Hermione to keep it on her at all times. The sneakoscope had known that Pettigrew was untrustworthy, so it had to be at least somewhat useful.</p>
<p><em>Luckily for both of us, I'm not much for lying—</em>Harry grinned, thinking of all the lies Hermione had told for his benefit—<em>so the chances of it going off unnecessarily are quite low.</em></p>
<p>Crookshanks also appeared to be holding up his end of their deal.</p>
<p><em>You'll be happy to know that I can't even go out front to say hello to our neighbor without Crookshanks nipping at my heels. He even followed mum and me to the park the other day! You're very lucky that I happen to adore my cat</em>.</p>
<p>Harry grinned picturing the stern, stubborn expression on her face, but couldn't quite bring himself to feel bad that she was a smidge exasperated with him and Crookshanks. She might sound grumpy, but if she were really mad at them, she wouldn't have thrown in that bit about loving her cat.</p>
<p>She also told him about her trip to the British Museum with her dad, writing in detail about all the new exhibits she'd seen.</p>
<p>
  <em>Moody was supposed to be on guard duty that day, but he had to switch with one of the others—the museum is too crowded for his invisibility cloak to be effective, and can you imagine how people would react to that eye? But I had a chat with him a few days before and he sent one of the others—her name is Tonks—to blend in with us. Quite effectively, too… I kept looking out for her, but could never find her.</em>
</p>
<p>As worried as Harry had been about Hermione going home, he was glad she was getting to spend some time with her parents. When she told him about her fears—that her parents would feel like strangers—it was like a punch to the gut. She'd confided in him a few times this year—at the Yule Ball, after her fight with Ron about the Slytherin/Ravenclaw quidditch match—but as she told him about her parents, he realized she never really talked about her problems. She had a tendency to isolate herself when she was upset, to handle things on her own. And while he understood the impulse, he didn't like not knowing that things were bothering her. They'd been friends for four years, had talked about her parents plenty, and he'd had no idea what was really going on there.</p>
<p>
  <em>Dad and I ate at this really good French restaurant after. I think even Fleur would've liked the food.</em>
</p>
<p>Harry scoured her letters for any clue about if things were okay with her parents; when he asked about it, she said that things were great, but he wasn't sure if the optimism was for his benefit.</p>
<p>Where he was <em>certain </em>her enthusiasm was real was her reaction to his transfiguration lessons. He'd thought about surprising her with a demonstration when she turned up for their birthdays but, well, he still didn't think bubbles were particularly exciting.</p>
<p>Hermione, on the other hand, did not seem to agree.</p>
<p>
  <em>Harry, that's FANTASTIC! Battle transfiguration is really quite complex—remember how Professor McGonagall told us last year about that war in Transylvania that was won when one side accidentally transfigured their leader into a potato? But I know you can do it… and when I get there, Sirius will have to teach me, too!</em>
</p>
<p>While there were other things Harry would prefer to do with Hermione, he was happy to spend time with her doing anything—and, certainly, he wanted her to be able to defend herself, too. Besides, learning made Hermione happy, and when she was happy, she smiled, and when Harry accomplished a complex spell, she got that dreamy look on her face that made his stomach flip.</p>
<p>Where Harry looked forward to Hermione's letters, the ones from Ron vexed him. The first one had been fine; he was back at the Burrow, and had grumbled a bit about Fred and George—Harry gathered they hadn't let up yet about Mandy, though Ron didn't confirm one way or the other—but had apparently spent an entertaining day with Ginny, Luna and the garden gnomes. <em>She's absolutely mental, mate</em>, Ron wrote about Luna<em>, but at least she's amusing. Better than hanging around Percy, who seems to have that stick lodged even higher than before.</em></p>
<p>Harry didn't particularly like people calling Luna mental, but, well, he understood why people didn't exactly get her, especially if she was talking about the Rotfang Conspiracy and the like.</p>
<p>But his next letter from Ron was different. <em>I can't say much about you-know-what, obviously… We're quite busy, but I can't give you details here…</em></p>
<p>Sirius told Harry that the Weasleys had moved into Order headquarters.</p>
<p>"I can assure you he doesn't know any more than you," Sirius said. "Less, probably, since his mum makes sure to keep all her kids away from the meetings. But he can't exactly write about what he does know in a letter that can be intercepted, can he?"</p>
<p>Harry supposed that was true. He didn't write anything to Hermione about anything he learned about the Order for the same reason, though Remus had also promised he'd keep her informed. But he still was a bit jealous that Ron got to be closer to the action.</p>
<p>Neville seemed to sense when Harry was feeling particularly antsy because that's when he'd suggest they go swimming or help Diggy cook dinner—cooking was more fun when Aunt Petunia wasn't around—or suggest Harry and Sirius go flying, reminding Harry of all the things he could do here.</p>
<p>And as much as his dreams were plaguing him, and as much as Harry wished he was doing more to help the Order and doing more to help the house elves, he really wouldn't trade these weeks for anything. Their daytime routines and the nights Harry and Neville spent flipping through comics, listening to the Weird Sisters on the radio while Augusta and Sirius debated broomstick laws in the background, made this the best summer of Harry's life.</p>
<p>One time Neville dragged him into the Secret Garden—Harry had avoided it because it made him miss Hermione—but Neville insisted, pulling him to the Wiggentree. It looked the same as it always had—seasons weren't really a thing in this garden—except for movement high up in the branches.</p>
<p>"What is that?" Harry asked, craning his neck to see.</p>
<p>Neville grinned. "Baby bowtruckles," he replied, as one hopped down and fell on his head.</p>
<p>Harry plucked it from his hair—it was barely the size of a finger and looked very much like a stick with knobbly arms and legs, and two long, sharp fingers at the end of each hand. It stared up at him with beetle-brown eyes, its funny, flat face expressionless.</p>
<p>"You can't normally see them," Neville explained. "They're great at camouflaging themselves, so you'd only see them if they're attacking you—which you <em>definitely</em> don't want. But when they're babies, they haven't learned all that yet and they just hop around the tree."</p>
<p>Harry lifted his cupped hand toward the closest branch and the bowtruckle hopped out. He looked up and saw the bowtruckles leaping amongst the branches, creating a sort of synchronized dance that Harry found mesmerizing.</p>
<p>"Isn't it great?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry agreed, sad that Hermione was missing it. She would've loved this.</p>
<hr/>
<p>One morning, a few days before Hermione was set to arrive, Harry woke up in agonizing pain, his scar burning. He had dreamed about the graveyard yet again, but then it turned into something different. He remembered seeing Voldemort, Lucius Malfoy, Snape and Goyle's dad. They were planning…something. A break in of sorts, though what they were stealing, he had no clue.</p>
<p>He pulled on a jumper, feeling cold despite his sweat, and crept out of the room. Neville was waiting for him, as always.</p>
<p>"There's still some cake left over from last night," he suggested.</p>
<p>"I think Voldemort's planning a break in," Harry blurted out as they padded downstairs. Neville nearly tripped on one of the steps at the sound of Voldemort's name, but righted himself. He turned to Harry, his face horrorstruck.</p>
<p>"How do you know?" he whispered.</p>
<p>"I saw it in a dream," Harry admitted. "He was making plans to steal… something."</p>
<p>"You've got to tell Sirius," Neville said automatically.</p>
<p>"I know," Harry agreed. He might even be downstairs already—Sirius wasn't exactly a late riser either.</p>
<p>They didn't find Sirius in the kitchen, but they did find the leftover cake. Harry felt better once they were seated at the kitchen table, each with generous portions.</p>
<p>Neville glanced up at Harry nervously, before taking a bite off his fork. The silence filled the room, the only sound that of the forks scraping against the dishes.</p>
<p>"Look," Neville finally said. "I know this dream was different. At least, I assume, since you've never mentioned one before. But…"</p>
<p>Harry felt his stomach sink. He didn't want to talk about the other dreams.</p>
<p>"I got them too, you know," Neville said softly. "After Crouch Jr."</p>
<p>Harry didn't remember hearing any screams, but maybe Neville's were more of a silent terror.</p>
<p>"It's different, I know—it wasn't You-Know-Who—but the dreams are normal, I think," Neville added.</p>
<p>Harry nodded, unsure what to say.</p>
<p>"If you ever want to talk—"</p>
<p>"I don't," Harry said quickly, feeling bad about the sharp note to his voice. Neville was just trying to be a good friend.</p>
<p>Harry looked up, smiling tightly at Neville. "But I know you're… thanks."</p>
<p>Neville returned his smile with a small one of his own, and then they went back to their cake.</p>
<p>Harry didn't have to wait long for Sirius to stroll into the kitchen looking for coffee. He eyed the crumbs on their plates, and smiled mischievously at them.</p>
<p>"Cake for breakfast—a bold choice," he remarked, pouring himself a cup of coffee.</p>
<p>"I think Voldemort's planning a break in," Harry responded, causing Sirius to jerk around. At the question on his face, Harry added, "I had another dream."</p>
<p>Sirius nodded slowly, but didn't say a word.</p>
<p>"I think he's trying to steal something," Harry continued. "But I don't know what."</p>
<p>"We know what," Sirius sighed.</p>
<p>Harry and Neville exchanged expectant glances.</p>
<p>"What?" they asked.</p>
<p>Sirius ran a hand down his face and then rubbed at his temples. He looked like he <em>wanted</em> to tell Harry something, but remained silent.</p>
<p>"I've got a right to know," Harry protested.</p>
<p>Sirius considered him. "You do," he said, sitting down at the table with them, and folding his hands together.</p>
<p>Harry sat up straighter.</p>
<p>"He's after a weapon," Sirius said. "Something he didn't have last time."</p>
<p>"What kind of weapon?" Harry asked. "What can be worse than Avada Kedavra?"</p>
<p>Sirius smiled sadly, with a glance toward Neville. "A lot of things," he answered. "But to answer your question, even I don't know what the weapon does. But Dumbledore is adamant that Voldemort not get his hands on it. And…"</p>
<p>He trailed off, his face pained.</p>
<p>"What?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I don't know exactly what the weapon does," Sirius said, "but your dad had a pretty good idea—"</p>
<p>"He didn't tell you?" Harry asked, confused. From everything he'd heard, his dad and Sirius shared everything.</p>
<p>"No," Sirius answered. "In those days, sometimes it was better—safer—to keep certain things to yourself. What your friend didn't know couldn't be tortured out of him."</p>
<p>"So dad was trying to protect you?"</p>
<p>"I think so."</p>
<p>Sirius' tone was sorrowful, his expression guarded. Harry glanced toward Neville—he couldn't imagine keeping secrets from him and Hermione and yet, would he do it to protect them? If it would make them safer?</p>
<p>Sirius let out a sigh. "In any case, from what James <em>did</em> tell me, we definitely don't want Voldemort getting his hands on this weapon."</p>
<p>"Well, where is it?" Harry asked. "Can't we just get it first?"</p>
<p>"It's someplace safe," Sirus said, raising his eyebrow at Harry. "But you <em>really</em> don't think I'm going to tell the kid who went running into the chamber of secrets and who stole the philosopher's stone where the weapon Voldemort wants is hidden, do you?"</p>
<p>"Well, it's not like I'd go running after it with no <em>reason</em>," Harry said hotly. "Ginny was stuck in the chamber and Voldemort was after the stone!"</p>
<p>"Sort of like how he's after the weapon?" Sirius asked, lifting his mug to his lips.</p>
<p>From his tone, Harry had just confirmed exactly what Sirius feared would happen if he told Harry.</p>
<p>"Fine, don't tell me," Harry muttered. "Maybe Voldemort will in my next dream."</p>
<p>Sirius' expression sobered at that retort and he gripped his mug harder. He eyed the cake plate sitting between them all—there was still a fair bit left.</p>
<p>"Right," Sirius said, nodding. "We need more of this."</p>
<p>After Sirius cut them all a slice, Harry bit into his second piece of cake, half-listening as Sirius and Neville discussed Frank Longbottom's apparent talent for juggling. But he couldn't help thinking about this weapon—what could Voldemort possibly want?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0029"><h2>29. Chapter 29</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Hermione sat at her table, a cup of hot chocolate firmly in her hands. Her mum was sitting across from her, watching her with annoyingly knowing eyes.</p>
<p>She should be thankful at least that her mum had waited for dinner to end and for Hermione's dad to retire to the living room to watch the telly before she began asking about Harry.</p>
<p>"So," her mum said, breaking the silence, "it sounds like you had a successful year."</p>
<p>Over pizza, Hermione had told her parents all sorts of half-truths—about her classes, how she spent her time at school, about helping Harry train for the tournament. There had been no mentions of evil dark lords or his follower turning her and Neville into his puppet. There was no mention of fighting him, or blackmailing a reporter, or dead ministry workers and house elves. There was no mention of the potions professor she was trying to get fired, or the members of the Order of the Phoenix who would be keeping watch outside their home.</p>
<p>There were just stories about classes, quidditch games, and Hogsmeade weekends, followed by Hermione deflecting by asking questions about their lives—interesting cases at work, their weekly dinners with the Conklins, their holiday in Spain last March. Her dad obliged her easily. He was a born storyteller—her mum always said that's what first attracted her to him—and fed her story after story of everything she asked about. Her mother, meanwhile, merely gazed at her with a watchful eye.</p>
<p>Beth Granger loved the theater and she could usually tell when someone was acting.</p>
<p>"School was really good," Hermione agreed, plastering a smile on her face. "I really learned a lot—the theories we're studying in Arithmancy are so complex."</p>
<p>"And you've made some new friends this year," her mum said, nodding. "I was a bit surprised when you wrote to us about spending time at Neville's this year. You've never mentioned him much before."</p>
<p>Hermione shrugged. "Well, we got a lot closer this year," she said. "He was really helpful with the tournament—helping us figure out the clues."</p>
<p>Her mum quirked her eyebrow and shot Hermione that knowing grin again. "<em>Us?"</em> she prompted.</p>
<p>Hermione blushed and took a sip of her hot chocolate. "Well, of course I helped Harry," she said defensively. "He's my best friend."</p>
<p>Beth Granger took a sip of her own hot chocolate, leaning back in her chair, considering Hermione. She had the look of a detective interrogating a witness, slowly moving them toward incriminating themselves. Hermione supposed she should be glad that her mother was attributing her vague answers to her relationship with Harry—it would keep her from digging any deeper and finding out about You-Know-Who.</p>
<p>"And is that all it is? Friendship?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Well… <em>no</em>," Hermione admitted, staring hard at her drink. "I mean, it <em>was</em>, obviously, for a long time, but… well, then Harry kissed me."</p>
<p>She peeked a glance up at her mum, who was smiling warmly.</p>
<p>"And did you want him to kiss you?" she asked conversationally, but she already seemed to know the answer.</p>
<p>"Yes, of course," Hermione blurted, blushing again. "I'd been thinking about it for a long time and then it was the night before the last task and we went for a walk around the lake, and the sun was setting and he just <em>kissed</em> me, and well… it was perfect, really."</p>
<p>She'd suddenly started speaking very fast.</p>
<p>Her mum smiled wider. "It sounds very romantic," she noted.</p>
<p>"Oh, it was!" Hermione gushed. This was the first time she'd gotten to talk about that night with anyone, and she hadn't fully realized how much she was missing, just getting to talk about her feelings like she was a normal girl.</p>
<p>Hermione smiled wider. "Especially since I wouldn't have expected it of Harry," she said.</p>
<p>Oh, she'd said that all wrong hadn't she?</p>
<p>"It's not that I don't think he <em>can </em>be romantic," she quickly added defensively. "Just that—"</p>
<p>But to her surprise, her mum was laughing. At Hermione's confused look, her mum explained, "Hermione, he's a 14-year-old boy. It would concern me quite a bit if he <em>was</em> suave and cool and ultra-romantic."</p>
<p>Hermione tried to picture Harry as some sort of ladies man. He could be confident all right—when he had a broomstick in his hand or when he was aiming to fight some terrible creature that Hagrid would describe as "cuddly"—but he was just Harry in every other instance, and she liked him that way.</p>
<p>"No, he's definitely not that," Hermione agreed, cupping her chin in her hand. "But sometimes he just says and does the most perfect things. Like he really understands me."</p>
<p>Her mum took a sip of her drink. "Well, that's what happens when the boy you fancy is your best friend," she said. "He already knows you well—and the attraction is based in something real."</p>
<p>"You weren't friends with dad first, though," Hermione pointed out.</p>
<p>Her mum had told her this story a million times. They'd gone to university together and had met through mutual friends at the pub one night. There'd been sparks and they'd started dating right away.</p>
<p>"No," her mum agreed, "but we became each other's best friend. Real life isn't like the plays we watch together. It's—"</p>
<p>"Yes, mum, I know," Hermione sighed. "Juliet was an idiot."</p>
<p>Her mum smirked and sipped her drink. "Well, to be fair, so was Romeo," she said.</p>
<p>Hermione had heard this diatribe a million times—dying over someone you'd only known a day was pure stupidity in her mother's opinion. When Hermione pointed out that her Shakespearean namesake didn't exactly have the healthiest marriage, her mum had countered that she hadn't been named after Hermione because of the romance, but because she had been a character who was eloquent, had honor and always stayed true to who she was—and she'd been vindicated in the end.</p>
<p>Her mother might love the drama of the theater, but she was practical in all senses of the word. In her opinion, the romance embodied by most art wasn't anything to be emulated. If anything, it was Hermione's dad, the history lover, who got caught up in the romance of things.</p>
<p>Her mum was staring at her again. More questions were coming.</p>
<p>"So when did you realize you liked Harry as more than a friend?" she asked.</p>
<p>"We were in the garden at Neville's," Hermione answered. She remembered very clearly how it had felt that day—how everything had suddenly changed and yet, how it was all still exactly the same. "Although I don't know if it was <em>really</em> any one moment—there were so many little moments going back to the ball. Maybe even before that."</p>
<p>At the mention of the ball, her mother's eyebrow quirked up.</p>
<p>"I must say, I was a bit surprised when you wrote to tell me you were going with Viktor—someone you had never even mentioned before," she said.</p>
<p>"We're friends," Hermione replied evenly. "He's Harry's friend, too. And honestly, I think maybe it's a good thing I went with him. Dancing with him was nothing like dancing with Harry and I never would've known there was a difference otherwise."</p>
<p>Hermione's mum smiled. She clearly agreed with the scientific approach to dating.</p>
<p>"Dancing with Viktor was nice, but Harry makes me feel…"</p>
<p>She trailed off, unsure of the right words. How do you describe feeling safe and exhilarated all at the same time? She didn't know what to call it, but her mum's eyes were shining and her glowing smile made Hermione think maybe she understood what Hermione didn't know how to put into words.</p>
<p>"So what happened after the kiss?" her mum asked, her voice sounding a little strange.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. Did her mum want to know that she'd practically jumped Harry, messing up his hair and snogging him senseless? Because she really didn't think they should be discussing that.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" she asked cautiously.</p>
<p>Her mum smiled indulgently. "Well, I assume you must have talked about this kiss?" she asked. "It happened a week ago. Surely, you haven't just been staring into each other's eyes this whole time?"</p>
<p>"Oh! Well, yes, of course we talked. He fancies me and I fancy him and…" she trailed off, shrugging. "We fancy each other."</p>
<p>Beth Granger took another sip. "So is he your boyfriend then?"</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. They hadn't talked about that.</p>
<p>From her look, her mum had surmised that. "Dating?"</p>
<p>Hermione's frown deepened. "Well, we didn't define anything, but we're… It's more than friendship."</p>
<p>She was absolutely certain about that, and sounded as confident as she felt. Her mum, however, was frowning.</p>
<p>"It's not usually like you to leave things so… open," she said.</p>
<p>Certainly, that was true. But her mum didn't know the whole truth—that the day after their kiss, Harry had fought You-Know-Who and watched Crouch and Winky die, and now they were waiting for a war to begin—really, it already had—and asking Harry, "Will you be my boyfriend?" felt insignificant compared to everything else he was going through.</p>
<p>And besides, this was the boy who had stepped in front of her when he thought she was about to be hit with a Killing Curse. It would be impossible to "define the relationship" in the normal sort of way. Nothing about them was normal.</p>
<p>But she couldn't tell her mother about that. She couldn't tell her what her life was really like at Hogwarts.</p>
<p>And, just like that, she felt the chasm deepen between her and her parents, her and her muggle life.</p>
<p>Any promise she'd felt for these few weeks died in her in that moment. She couldn't even just sit in her kitchen and gossip with her mum about the boy she liked without being reminded that there were things about her they'd never understand.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Over the course of the next few weeks, Hermione was reminded again and again that she had two very different lives. She and her dad went on their museum days, and she watched old movies on the telly with her mum, but every time something related to Hogwarts came up, she found herself telling half-truths.</p>
<p>Her dad made jokes about Crookshanks following her around everywhere—and her cat was a comfort, surely—but his overprotectiveness just reminded her of everything she was keeping from her parents.</p>
<p>Harry asked her about it in his letters—and she assured him everything was fine—but it wasn't. Not really.</p>
<p>Even normal things felt off. Her bedroom was the same as she had left it—her gingham bedspread, her well-organized bookshelves, the drawings her parents bought her from street artists anytime they visited a new city hanging on her lavender walls—and yet it felt wrong. She'd taken to lighting candles in her room because the lights felt too harsh when she tried to read with them on. Her years at Hogwarts had made the soft glow of reading by fire a comfort, one she found she missed when she was home.</p>
<p>And then there were the members of the Order who followed her around. Some of them were practically ghosts—she'd never seen this Tonks person, and while she knew Moody had taken some shifts, he usually preferred to use his invisibility cloak. Lupin, however, always made himself known and they'd go for walks around the neighborhood together.</p>
<p>She was glad for his company—he facilitated letter exchanges between her, Harry and Neville—but she kept waiting for one of her neighbors to ask her parents about the strange man their teenage daughter hung around with.</p>
<p>She soaked up the information he could give her—about Harry, about the manor, about the war. Rita <em>also </em>kept her informed—though Hermione couldn't exactly say she enjoyed their exchanges—but Remus she actually trusted.</p>
<p>And yet, while she was happy to know what was going on—if there was anything Hermione hated it was not knowing things—she left each and every one of their meetings feeling worse than before. She'd go back home, where her parents were making paella or moussaka and discussing their plans for the weekend, and wonder and worry how or when this war would affect them. Sure, the Order was keeping watch, but how safe were her parents really? How much longer could she allow them to keep this illusion that everything was fine?</p>
<p>And how would she go about telling them when it was time?</p>
<p>She didn't know the answers to any of these questions and was particularly glad when the day came to go to Hannah's. Hannah lived firmly in the wizarding world, so she didn't have to exist in this limbo between worlds there.</p>
<p>While her parents knew where she was going, they had plans that day and she was glad not to have to answer any questions about her mode of transportation. Remus showed up with a witch she'd never met, a stately looking woman with dark brown hair, sharp eyes and an officious-seeming demeanor.</p>
<p>"This is Emmeline Vance," Remus said, introducing them. "She's a member of the Order."</p>
<p>"I'm also an old friend of Nora Abbott's," Emmeline added, referring to Hannah's mother. "I'll be visiting with her while you're with Hannah."</p>
<p>Emmeline apparated them to the corner of a very ordinary London street. Hannah, it appeared, lived in an unassuming flat on the top floor of a nondescript building. When the blonde Hufflepuff excitedly let them in, it was not at all what Hermione pictured.</p>
<p>She knew Hannah Abbott's family was one of those rich old pureblood families, not unlike the Longbottoms. She had been expecting gilded mirrors and tapestries and a portrait gallery.</p>
<p>But she was standing in a perfectly ordinary three-bedroom flat—one with a refrigerator and a telly and lamps that ran on electricity.</p>
<p>Her surprise must have been evident on her face because Hannah grinned at her.</p>
<p>"Mum's muggleborn," she explained. "Most of her family knows she's a witch of course, but she's got plenty of muggle friends who don't know. She insisted on having a normal home so she didn't have to explain why her friends couldn't come round ours."</p>
<p>She started to lead them through the siting room before turning around with a warning. "No magic in this part of the flat, though," she said.</p>
<p>"Right," Hermione said, recalling something she'd read in <em>Hogwarts, A History</em>. "Too much magic can mess with muggle technology."</p>
<p>"I doubt you girls would be able to do enough magic to break that ugly box Nora loves so much," Emmeline pointed out, referring to the telly.</p>
<p>Hannah leaned in closer to Hermione, smiling conspiratorially. "She's probably right, but God help the witch who does magic in here and messes with Mum's ability to watch <em>Corrie.</em>"</p>
<p>Laughter bubbled out of Hermione. It seemed so incongruous—someone she associated with Hogwarts talking about muggle things. Hannah grinned sheepishly and led Hermione and Emmeline through the room, down a corridor and to what looked like some sort of closet.</p>
<p>But, of course, when she opened the door it wasn't a closet at all, but an opening to lodgings much more in keeping with what Hermione had been expecting.</p>
<p>There weren't the rows of portraits and goblin-made trinkets that she saw at the Longbottoms, nor was there the lived-in chaos that permeated the Burrow. The Abbott household was certainly magical—the plants on the windowsill could definitely be found in one of the Herbology greenhouses, and there was a self-serving tea set in the sitting room already pouring out two cups.</p>
<p>Hermione couldn't see the layout of the whole home, but she doubted very much that it could fit in this building without magical help.</p>
<p>But, despite the magical influences, the room was also incredibly modern. The furniture looked like it could come straight out of some posh magazine.</p>
<p>"Nora and David put expansion charms on the place," Emmeline explained. "And concealment charms on the door, of course."</p>
<p>"Your home is lovely," Hermione said, wondering if there were other aspects of the Abbotts that would surprise her.</p>
<p>"Do you have a house elf?" she blurted, turning to Hannah.</p>
<p>The whole point of this visit was to find Helga Hufflepuff's office so they could help the house elves, and she didn't even know if Hannah, whose father was a wealthy pureblood, had one.</p>
<p>Hannah looked scandalized. Was asking that some sort of wizarding faux pas?</p>
<p>"Mum would <em>never</em>," Hannah said fervently.</p>
<p>Hermione knew there had been a reason she had liked Mrs. Abbott when she met her at King's Cross.</p>
<p>"Of course not!"</p>
<p>Hannah and Hermione turned as the congenial-looking woman with Hannah's blonde hair bustled into the sitting room.</p>
<p>"Honestly," she continued, stopping briefly to greet Emmeline and offer Hermione a hello, "can you imagine needing a house elf to do housework when you've got <em>magic</em>?"</p>
<p>She sat down on the sofa and Emmeline followed. They both set about putting their sugar in their tea.</p>
<p>"When I was a girl, it took all day to clean the house," Mrs. Abbott continued. "Mind you, I grew up in the muggle world. But with magic… Honestly, I don't see what there is to <em>do</em> around the house all day when you've got magic."</p>
<p>Well. That wasn't <em>exactly</em> the issue she'd hoped Mrs. Abbott would have with house elves, but at least it wasn't a lecture on how house elves liked slavery and the wizarding world needed them.</p>
<p>Hannah grinned, having clearly heard this particular rant before.</p>
<p>"It's lovely to see you again, Hermione. I do love it when Hannah brings her friends around. Would you girls like some tea?" Mrs. Abbott asked.</p>
<p>"No, mum. We'll be in the library," Hannah said quickly, pulling Hermione out of the room.</p>
<p>"If we didn't leave now, we were in for another 20 minutes of that lecture," Hannah explained.</p>
<p>Hermione wouldn't have minded debating the merits of house elves with someone—especially someone who might be sympathetic toward her stance—but that train of thought died when Hannah pushed open a large brown door into a library the size of the Gryffindor common room. The 20-ft. walls were lined with books going all the way up the ceiling, and there was an array of mismatched ladders perched on every wall. In the center of the room, there was a dark mahogany coffee table surrounded by vintage-looking tan armchairs. Large stacks of leather-bound journals sat in various piles on the table.</p>
<p>"This place is brilliant," Hermione said, taking it all in.</p>
<p>Hannah beamed. "Uncle Edward inherited the Abbott family house—he's dad's older brother—but he's a bit of a dunderhead, so he gave dad the library," she explained. "The only thing Uncle Edward would use books for is book blasting."</p>
<p>"Book blasting?" Hermione repeated faintly. That did not sound pleasant.</p>
<p>Hannah cringed. "It was an old wizarding pastime," she explained. "You'd launch a book up in the air and another wizard would try to blast it out of the sky. It went out of fashion centuries ago, and really only ever got played when a bunch of idiots got right drunk."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't know what to say to <em>that</em>, but she knew her face was arranged in some awful looking scowl because Hannah nodded at her sympathetically, patting her on the arm.</p>
<p>"I know—it's truly awful," she said. "Uncle Edward is sweet enough, but he hasn't got any brains."</p>
<p>Clearly not.</p>
<p>"Is Susan coming?" Hermione asked curiously.</p>
<p>Hannah shook her head. "Her parents extended their holiday, so she's stuck in Switzerland. She's quite annoyed about it, too."</p>
<p>"Yes, I can see how Switzerland would be terrible," Hermione replied dryly, earning a snicker from Hannah.</p>
<p>The blonde turned to the stacks of books on the table. "So dad and I went through them and selected some of the more promising Abbotts," she explained, pointing to the various piles. "These are the prefects, so they probably learned a lot about the castle, these are the more notorious troublemakers, so they likely snuck around the castle the most, and these are the oldest, who went to school while Helga Hufflepuff was likely still there. Dad already cast a charm on those to translate the writing so we don't have to worry about some long-dead version of English."</p>
<p>She waved her hand toward a pile on one of the armchairs. "And that pile is the one we've already gone through," she added, turning to Hermione, a hesitant smile on her face, her eyes eager.</p>
<p>Hermione could feel her jaw drop just a bit. Hannah had said she would help her, but she'd clearly thrown herself into the task. Just how much time over the past few weeks had she and her dad spent researching and sorting these journals?</p>
<p>"Brilliant," Hermione replied. She wasn't sure what she was expecting from Hannah, but this neat, orderly approach was… well, it was exactly how she would've handled it.</p>
<p>They hunkered down on the armchairs, each grabbing a journal from the oldest stack, and engrossed themselves in reading. Hermione skimmed through the pages looking for any sign of Helga's office, but kept getting sidetracked by anecdotes about the castle—how Rowena Ravenclaw taught transfiguration and potions, how the students used to turn the main staircase into an ice slide (and Godric Gryffindor used to join them), and she was fairly certain the trophy room used to be a painting room.</p>
<p>Every so often, she or Hannah would pipe up to relate something amusing—"Helga Hufflepuff had a pet moke, and every year the Hufflepuffs would compete to see who could find it first… oh dear, apparently this year it hid itself in Nigel Fairweather's pants"—but there weren't any references to any offices.</p>
<p>They whiled away the afternoon, paging through the books, giggling at ridiculous wizarding nonsense, stopping only when Mrs. Abbott offered them some cake.</p>
<p>"Sorry we didn't find what you were looking for," Hannah offered, as she took a bite of her dessert. "But I'll keep looking."</p>
<p>"Thanks," Hermione said. "I could come back and help again."</p>
<p>Had that been too forward? She'd basically just invited herself over. Granted, she'd done the same thing to Neville at Easter, but after that business with Crouch Jr., there weren't really any boundaries in their friendship. But Hannah was new and normal, and Hermione was rubbish at knowing the rules of female friendship.</p>
<p>"I'd like that!" Hannah enthused, and Hermione felt a wave of relief.</p>
<p>Hannah stared at her, her cheeks turning slightly pink.</p>
<p>"You're not what I expected," she finally declared.</p>
<p>Hermione wasn't sure what to make of that, but if she were honest with herself, Hannah wasn't what she expected either. At Hogwarts, she seemed timid and shy, but at home, she was in her element, impishly poking fun at her family, taking charge of their search, relishing in reading about Walter Abbott's failed shrinking potion that somehow turned his pet toad into a crocodile.</p>
<p>But Hermione wasn't sure exactly what Hannah thought of her.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Well," Hannah said, clearly trying to be diplomatic, "at school, you and Harry and Ron—and now Neville—you all always seemed so…closed off. Impenetrable, almost."</p>
<p>Had they been? Hermione didn't think so, but then, she'd never been someone people really seemed to <em>want</em> to be friends with. Until this past year, at least.</p>
<p><em>Had</em> it been her and her friends who had been standoffish?</p>
<p>But even if they had been, they had good reason for it.</p>
<p>"Maybe we were, but everyone always seems to turn on Harry for some reason or another," Hermione pointed out, a bit frostily. "It makes it a bit hard to branch out."</p>
<p>Hannah turned red. "I felt so awful when he heard us talking about him in the library second year," she said. "I really did think he seemed nice."</p>
<p>"He <em>is</em> nice," Hermione replied emphatically.</p>
<p>"Oh, I know," Hannah said, rushing to agree. "With the way he and Cedric helped each other this year—I doubt there's anyone in Hufflepuff who wouldn't agree with that."</p>
<p>Cedric Diggory had always been a point of pride for the Hufflepuffs. What he thought clearly carried a lot of weight, and it was clear he thought quite a bit of Harry.</p>
<p>"But," Hannah added, turning red again, "I'm glad I got to know you. I guess I sort of thought you'd be… well, I didn't know exactly what to expect."</p>
<p>"A bossy know-it-all, I assume," Hermione said dryly, grinning at Hannah to show her she had no ill will. She'd certainly heard it enough times. Hannah laughed, so Hermione added, "Though you've got a bit of that yourself with the way you organized everything today."</p>
<p>There was an excited gleam in Hannah's eyes. "I <em>love</em> lists," she said. "Do you have Hardwick Hennilworth's homework planner? It's basically the best planner there is—it rings anytime you're nearing a due date for an assignment, and there are also pages for birthdays, Christmas gift ideas, you write in everything you want to do on a Hogsmeade weekend and it'll create an itinerary for you. It's <em>the best</em>."</p>
<p>Hermione had never heard of it, but she certainly was eager to hear more. And when she lay in her bed later that night, reading by candlelight, she couldn't help but grin. So they hadn't solved the riddle of Helga Hufflepuff's office that day, but there was a silver lining—never in her life had she had a friend she could talk about homework planners with.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Before she knew it, it was time to go to Wiggentree Manor. Her parents hadn't exactly been thrilled when she broached the subject with them—she'd claimed it was about the fact that they were going into their OWL year, and had loads more coursework to complete over the summer. She was fairly certain her mum thought Harry factored into the decision, but when she showed them the stacks of work—their assignments really <em>had </em>increased—they relented.</p>
<p>The day before she left, she met with Moody and Lupin in the park to discuss her parents.</p>
<p>"Will they be safe?" she asked anxiously. "Should they be in hiding too?"</p>
<p>She didn't know how her parents would take her telling them to uproot their life.</p>
<p>"Our sources tell us they're not on Voldemort's radar currently," Lupin said.</p>
<p>Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Are those sources Professor Snape?" she asked.</p>
<p>Moody guffawed. "Him, yes," he answered. "But there are others, too. Voldemort's lying low for now, waiting to see how the fallout with Dumbledore and Fudge shakes out. Attacking your parents—or anyone at the moment—would draw attention he doesn't want."</p>
<p>"Because if he does, the public might be more willing to believe Dumbledore—and then the full force of the Ministry will be working against You-Know-Who," Hermione reasoned.</p>
<p>Lupin smiled proudly. "Precisely," he agreed.</p>
<p>"Well… should we put the house under the Fidelius?" Hermione asked. "Just to be sure?"</p>
<p>"We can't," Moody replied.</p>
<p>"They're too firmly in the muggle world," Remus explained. "The Fidelius works fine in the wizarding world because magic can design around it. Owls can find people just fine without addresses, and even if they're followed, the Death Eater would never see where they go because the owl isn't the Secret Keeper. But what happens when people try to send your parents letters, but can't remember where they live? What happens when your parents have bills to pay, but they're not getting the notices because the post can't arrive? The Fidelius can work with the Floo network—it merely masks where the Floo is located if anyone at the Ministry were to investigate—but it can't do the same with your telephone system. And what happens when your neighbors see them driving home from work—they know they live around here, but no one can see the house. Wizards aren't typically friends with their muggle neighbors, but yours have known your parents for years. But suddenly, they won't remember they live here, until they see your mum or dad pop up. Hoodwinking muggles is easy when it's the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron—that's a passing moment—but sustained concealment like a Fidelius in the muggle world would start to draw attention."</p>
<p>"Which is exactly what we don't want for your parents," Moody finished.</p>
<p>"So what can we do?" Hermione asked, feeling a bit desperate.</p>
<p>"Amelia Bones and Minerva McGonagall have stripped any record of your address from the Ministry and Hogwarts," Lupin told her.</p>
<p>"Beyond that, we've put some protective enchantments around your home and your parents' workplace," Moody added. "And if anything changes with Voldemort's plans, we'll pull them out of here."</p>
<p>"Once you go back to school, Dobby has also volunteered to deliver any letters you have so no one can follow the owls here," Remus said. "He's also agreed to pop in—discreetly, of course—to see if your parents have any letters for you. Just tell them it's a new Hogwarts service, and to leave the letter on the kitchen counter at night."</p>
<p>"The elf's also agreed to keep watch over your parents," Moody added. "They've got their own ways of keeping from being seen, so I doubt your parents will notice him."</p>
<p>Discreet wasn't exactly the word that came to mind when Hermione thought of Dobby, but she was so touched by his gesture, she couldn't even process the ways in which his involvement could go wrong. Tears sprang to her eyes.</p>
<p>"It seems Dobby likes you quite a bit," Remus added kindly.</p>
<p>She knew he liked Harry—and she supposed her by association—but she didn't think he liked her enough to play guard duty for her family.</p>
<p>"I'd never want Dobby to think he has to—"</p>
<p>"Dobby is <em>free</em>," Remus reminded her, clearly following her train of thought. "He doesn't do anything he doesn't want to do. No one forced him into this. He volunteered."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, wiping her tears.</p>
<p>Remus cleared his throat uncomfortably. "But <em>have</em> you given thought to telling your parents what's going on?" he asked.</p>
<p>His gaze was a mask—Hermione couldn't tell what he was thinking—but it felt like he was her professor again, quizzing her on grindylows and boggarts. She straightened.</p>
<p>"I have thought about it," she said. "If I thought it would make them safer, I would. But until things with You-Know-Who change, it sounds like they will be safe… so telling them will only make them worry."</p>
<p>"Hmm," Remus murmured.</p>
<p>She didn't know what that meant.</p>
<p>Moody, likewise, was as expressionless as ever.</p>
<p>She hoped she was making the right decision.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Augusta Longbottom arrived the next day shortly after breakfast. Her dad had made the meal while her mum read interesting bits of the newspaper to the both of them. Crookshanks had plopped himself firmly on Hermione's lap, eagerly awaiting her plate. It had been homey and warm—an entirely simple moment that she was glad for after three weeks of confusion, worry, and fear.</p>
<p>Despite the pleasant morning, when Augusta arrived, Hermione was glad to see her, too. She had missed Neville's curmudgeonly gran. And, certainly, she had missed Neville, Sirius, and especially Harry, too.</p>
<p>Gran was wearing one of her nicer dresses—which was just as awful as her regular dresses—and her signature vulture hat. To their credit, her parents didn't stare at it the way a lot of people did.</p>
<p>"We so appreciate you taking Hermione into your home," her mum enthused, shaking Augusta's hand warmly.</p>
<p>"Nonsense," Gran replied brusquely. "Who wouldn't want her? Your daughter is a delight. She's clearly a credit to your upbringing."</p>
<p>Her dad smiled lovingly at his daughter, enveloping her in a hug. "She is a delight, isn't she?" he said, and Hermione squeezed tighter, breathing in her dad's signature scent of mint, bergamot and sandalwood.</p>
<p>"I'll miss you!" she cried, pulling her mum into a bone-crunching hug. Her mum hugged back, patting soothing circles over her back.</p>
<p>"We'll see you at Christmas," her dad said brightly. "Mum and I were thinking of a ski holiday this year."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't particularly <em>like</em> skiing, but she loved the idea of her parents being out of the country.</p>
<p>"I think that sounds brilliant!" she declared, her voice only shaking a bit as she tried to blink back tears. "Really. Maybe we could go back to that one we went to with the really big ice skating rink—you said you liked their towels, dad."</p>
<p>It was also ridiculously remote.</p>
<p>"They were very fluffy," he agreed, earning an indulgent smile from his wife.</p>
<p>And so she left her parents in slightly better spirits. There was a plan to protect them and they'd spend their next holiday together far away from You-Know-Who.</p>
<p>When she and Augusta arrived at Wiggentree Manor, Crookshanks leapt from Hermione's arms and straight into Sirius'. She hardly recognized Harry's godfather. His hair was shorter, his face was fuller, and there was a gleam in his eye she had never seen before.</p>
<p>"Hello, Hermione," he greeted her warmly.</p>
<p>"Hermione!" Neville cried, wandering in from the direction of the kitchen.</p>
<p>"Happy birthday!" she said, enveloping him in a hug. "Has it been a good one?"</p>
<p>"Definitely," Neville grinned. "My Uncle Algie sent me a mimbulus mimbletonia—they're really rare—and you should see the drawing Luna made me… it's brilliant!"</p>
<p>"I can't wait," Hermione enthused, looking around. "Where's Harry?"</p>
<p>Sirius and Neville exchanged a snicker.</p>
<p>What was that about?</p>
<p>"Is he back up there fussing about how he looks?" Augusta asked harshly, shaking her head. She looked pointedly at Hermione. "No doubt on account of you."</p>
<p>"Why don't you go on up, Hermione? I can bring your things up to your room," Neville offered.</p>
<p>"Diggy will take it," Augusta responded, but Neville had already levitated her trunk. Hermione marveled at how much more assured he'd gotten at spells these past few weeks.</p>
<p>She followed him up the stairs, chatting with him about the special breakfast Diggy had made for his birthday. They separated at the landing, and she followed the familiar route to Harry's bedroom. The door was slightly ajar, and she could see Harry jamming some shirts into a drawer.</p>
<p>Before she knew what she was doing, she'd burst into the room, crossed it and crushed Harry in a hug. She had a brief glimpse of his look of surprise, and the start of a smile before she'd buried herself in his arms.</p>
<p>"Hi," Harry said, his voice muffled by her hair.</p>
<p>"Hi," she replied, reveling in the feel of his arms around her. She'd felt so unbalanced these past few weeks, hiding things from her parents, but there wasn't anyone she could be herself around more than Harry.</p>
<p>She pulled back slightly, taking in the fact that Harry had grown a little—just a smidge—so he was just a bit taller than her, before capturing his lips with hers.</p>
<p>He responded quite enthusiastically.</p>
<p>"Almost makes up for not seeing you for weeks," she said when they broke apart, her hands still idling in the hair at the back of his neck.</p>
<p>"Still, let's never do that again," Harry muttered.</p>
<p>"We've got until Christmas."</p>
<p>Harry studied her, his gaze boring into her. "How were things with your parents?"</p>
<p>So he'd read between the lines of her letters then.</p>
<p>"Fine," she said brightly, pasting a smile on her face. Harry was the person she could be herself around, but she didn't want to ruin their reunion.</p>
<p>Harry, it seemed, was not buying it though. He raised his eyebrows incredulously.</p>
<p>"All right, it wasn't fine, exactly," she said, sliding her hands away from him and turning toward the window. "I wanted to go home so badly."</p>
<p>"You were afraid if you didn't, you and your parents would become strangers," Harry said, recalling her reasoning perfectly.</p>
<p>"Yes, but it's happening anyway," Hermione replied, frustration evident in her voice. "I can't tell them the truth about my life here—about the war and You-Know-Who—so I spent the entire time on guard, keeping track of the lies and half truths I told."</p>
<p>She turned to face him and was surprised to see a guilty look staring back at her.</p>
<p>"What are you thinking?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.</p>
<p>"Well, it's my fault, isn't it?" he asked. "You can't tell them the truth about me. About me and Voldemort."</p>
<p>Hermione felt her heart break a little at how easily he thought he was to blame.</p>
<p>"<em>No</em>, Harry," she said, rushing toward him again, grabbing his hands in hers. "Obviously, some of the half-truths I told were about you. But even if we weren't close, even if you and I never talked, I'd still be lying. I imagine Dean and Justin and the Creeveys and all of the other muggleborns are, too."</p>
<p>Harry was silent for a moment before letting out a shuddering breath.</p>
<p>"So was it really awful then?" he asked. "At home?"</p>
<p>She hadn't been starved or stuffed in a cupboard or anything truly awful, no. But she hadn't really enjoyed herself.</p>
<p>"There were times when we had a lot of fun," she said. "When Dad and I went to the museum, or when we all cooked dinner together, or when mum and I went for walks in the park. But it was also just… really lonely."</p>
<p>She felt the tears start to come, saw Harry's eyes widen in panic, before he pulled her to him, his embrace the exact reassurance she needed.</p>
<p>"Nothing felt right there," she said. "Like it was familiar, but everything was askew."</p>
<p>She wished her house could be more like Hannah's—that she could figure out a way to combine her two worlds. But there was no chance of that happening until she was of age—and certainly no chance as long as You-Know-Who was around.</p>
<p>She shook her head, wiping the tears from her eyes. "How have things been here?" she asked.</p>
<p>"Fine," Harry said.</p>
<p>He was clearly downplaying it on account of how her own summer had been. She could see it in his eyes—they were brighter than she had ever seen them—and the lack of tension in his shoulders. He looked…normal.</p>
<p>She studied him. He'd grown a bit and he looked more relaxed, and he was also wearing muggle clothes that had actually been purchased specifically for him. She wasn't sure if he actually put on weight, or he just wasn't swimming in his jeans and t-shirts, but she certainly appreciated the look.</p>
<p>Harry looked down self-consciously. "Do I look all right?" he asked, clearly unnerved by her study.</p>
<p>"You look perfect," she assured him wholeheartedly.</p>
<p>"Good," Harry grinned, reddening. "I've sort of developed this habit of… changing a lot. Sirius thinks it's hilarious."</p>
<p>"Augusta blamed me," Hermione confessed.</p>
<p>"Oh," Harry said, reddening even more. "Well, maybe this time… but…"</p>
<p>But he had never had options before. For the first time in his life, Harry wasn't just wearing his Weasley jumper because it was the only muggle article of clothing he owned that fit him properly. Hermione felt her heart lift at the fact that Harry was finding simple pleasure in just having stuff, in being able to decide whether he wanted to wear a blue shirt or a red one.</p>
<p>God, she was glad he was away from his awful aunt and her family.</p>
<p>"It's Neville's birthday," she said, offering him a genuine smile as she delicately changed the subject. "We should go celebrate."</p>
<p>They'd have a happy day today and then tomorrow, for once in his life, Harry would have a proper birthday. She couldn't wait.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0030"><h2>30. Chapter 30</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For the first time in a while, Harry didn't wake up in the half darkness, in a cold sweat, still hearing Voldemort's voice echoing in his ears. On the contrary, on this particular morning, he was awakened by the warmth of sunlight on his face—warmth that seemed to radiate everywhere, though that might have been the particularly pleasant dream he'd had. He couldn't remember all of it, but he could distinctly remember bouncing on clouds made of a maze of twisting brown hair that smelled like citrus.</p>
<p>He smiled inwardly, remembering Hermione's appearance the day before. He hadn't realized how on edge he'd been about her absence—about what could happen to her at home—until he saw her.</p>
<p>Well, felt her, was more accurate because before he'd even had a moment to process that she was in front of him, she'd folded herself in his arms, and then she'd been kissing him… not that he particularly minded that. No, that part had been perfect.</p>
<p>It all would have been perfect if it wasn't for the fact that she'd had a bad time at home. That much was evident from the loneliness in her eyes, the frown on her face, the hitch in her voice when she told him about her summer. And then there'd been the tears.</p>
<p>And the only thing he'd thought to do was hold her because he was fundamentally underprepared to know how to do anything else. He didn't know the words to say to comfort anyone, didn't know what to do with emotions. For too many years he'd been told not to have any.</p>
<p>Hermione had actually started opening up to him—to tell him about her problems instead of bottling them up and running off to the library or the loo or wherever it was she disappeared to when she was upset—and all he could offer her was a hug.</p>
<p>Some boyfriend he was. He had to learn how to be better at this. She always seemed to know what to say to make him feel calm.</p>
<p>He felt a nibble on his finger and opened his eyes. A blurry white puff—Hedwig, he assumed—was nipping at his hand. He pulled on his glasses and sat up. From the look of the sun outside, he'd actually managed to sleep in a bit—though, considering his usual wakeup time, that wasn't saying much.</p>
<p>Hedwig was staring at him affectionately, a small pile of birthday presents behind her.</p>
<p>There was a box of Honeydukes chocolate from Ron, socks that heated up whenever there was snow from Dobby (which was not particularly useful now, but would be a godsend in the winter), and a small, beat-up package from Hagrid containing a compilation of German wizarding fairy tales. Of course, most of them seemed to be about erklings and read more like horror stories. Still, Harry was touched that Hagrid remembered, considering he was on a quest to find the giants and likely hadn't been near human civilization in a very long time.</p>
<p>Harry also opened Luna's present, which had arrived with Neville's. She'd made Neville a charcoal drawing of Luna, Neville, Harry and Hermione sharing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, so he wasn't surprised that he received a watercolor of the four of them jumping on clouds. Like Neville's, the four of them moved around in the picture. Harry's eyes couldn't look away from Hermione's hair—Luna had managed to capture how each curl and tendril seemed to have a life of its own. Every once in a while, Harry and Hermione dipped beneath the clouds.</p>
<p>Harry loved the present.</p>
<p>After staring at Hermione's mesmerizing hair for a while, he felt his stomach rumble. He put the gift in his drawer—he thought it was brilliant, but he also wanted to keep it to himself for a bit—and made his way down the stairs.</p>
<p>There were voices in the dining room and a clattering of teacups and spoons.</p>
<p>"So do you think it will go through?" Augusta said.</p>
<p>"Dumbledore seems to think it will," Remus replied. "We all know why Fudge is pushing for this decree, but technically, there's nothing really wrong with it."</p>
<p>"Doris Macmillan said her husband is incensed," Augusta added. "He doesn't like the Ministry interfering at Hogwarts at all. And Griselda doesn't much like it either. <em>She</em> wasn't even consulted."</p>
<p>Harry's stomach dropped—what was the Ministry doing that had Griselda Marchbanks and Ernie Macmillan's grandfather so peeved?</p>
<p>"Even if Fudge does sign it, the Board still retains complete control of Hogwarts," Sirius pointed out. "Though this is certainly more direct an attack on Dumbledore than I thought that sniveling coward was capable of."</p>
<p>"Well, after Fudge's attempt to get Dumbledore kicked off the Wizengamot failed, I'm not surprised he's out for blood," Augusta noted. "He knows he's losing ground with the public."</p>
<p>"Will the Ministry go after existing teachers?" Hermione piped up. "Does this have something to do with the inquiry into Professor Snape?"</p>
<p>She sounded worried—as if whatever this was had been her fault.</p>
<p>"Fudge would've tried this even without that, I'm sure," Remus assured her. "Albus <em>has</em> had a hard time filling the Defense Against the Dark Arts position for the past… decade at least."</p>
<p>Harry nearly snorted. That was an understatement.</p>
<p>"Still, I wouldn't put it past the Ministry to use this as a springboard to root out Dumbledore loyalists at Hogwarts as well," Sirius reasoned.</p>
<p>"Does Snape count?" Neville asked, a note of derision in his tone.</p>
<p>Harry couldn't see it, but he felt Sirius' smile at that comment. He peeked his head in—the five of them were seated toward one end of the dining room table, an empty seat saved for him. They were drinking tea and chatting away, and while their conversation clearly wasn't the happiest, it all looked comfortable and familiar and warm.</p>
<p>Hermione turned her head, immediately sensing his presence, and a brilliant smile graced her face.</p>
<p>"Harry!" she greeted, standing to give him a hug. "Happy Birthday!"</p>
<p>He wrapped his arms around her—this was the first real birthday hug he'd ever gotten—and then she pulled him by the hand into the seat next to her.</p>
<p>"Happy Birthday, Harry," Sirius said, clapping him on the shoulder, as the others wished him well as well.</p>
<p>It was a completely foreign thing to him, and when Diggy served the breakfast—eggs, bacon, sausage, toast, porridge (there was practically every option Harry could think of)—he felt a tightness in his chest.</p>
<p>"What's going on with the Ministry?" he asked to distract himself from the feeling.</p>
<p>Remus' smile abated. "Don't worry about that today," he said.</p>
<p>Harry leveled a look at him, and Remus chuckled.</p>
<p>"Right," he said. "Fudge has proposed an educational decree that will allow the Ministry to appoint teachers in the event that Dumbledore cannot secure one. He's floated the idea through 'sources close to the minister' in a couple of <em>Daily Prophet</em> articles to see how the public reacts, but we're sure he'll sign it any day now."</p>
<p>"Are there any open positions?" Harry asked, thinking of Snape's inquiry and the revolving door of Defense Against the Dark Arts professors. "Isn't Moody coming back?"</p>
<p>"No," Sirius replied. "He's been firm that it was a one year appointment. And that with Voldemort back, he's needed elsewhere."</p>
<p>"That won't do us a lot of good if we get stuck with some Ministry stooge," Harry said grumpily, and from the commiserating looks on Neville and Hermione's faces, they agreed.</p>
<p>"Albus has some things in the works," Remus said confidently, though Harry wasn't sure how much of that was true and how much of it was Remus' faith in the headmaster.</p>
<p>Remus had always trusted Dumbledore fully—but they all knew the Defense Against the Dark Arts position wasn't exactly a popular job (probably on account of the last few winding up dead, insane, fired or kidnapped). Dumbledore would probably have to do a worldwide search to find someone crazy enough to take the job…and they'd likely wind up with one of Fudge's lackeys anyway.</p>
<p>Sirius smiled awkwardly—did he share Harry's belief that this might not be a task Dumbledore was up to?—and cleared his throat.</p>
<p>"That's enough of that," he said in a tone that left no room for discussion. "It's your birthday. And I for one think you should do absolutely nothing but nonsense today."</p>
<hr/>
<p>Sirius was as good as his word. Of course, Harry shouldn't be surprised given how Neville's birthday had gone.</p>
<p>Neville hadn't wanted anything big, so they'd spent the afternoon playing Bardles. It was a wizarding game, named after the type of balls they used, that was similar to bowls or bocce, only whenever someone knocked one of the bardles further away from the jack, their bardle erupted in celebration, spraying everyone in the vicinity with paint the color of the ball.</p>
<p>Hermione and Harry had been particularly competitive, and Sirius' only aim in the game seemed to be to spray everyone with as much paint as possible, so by the end of it, they were all covered in blue, yellow and purple paint.</p>
<p>Neville had just been so delighted to see his normally prim and proper Gran in such a state, the vulture atop her hat now fully purple, he didn't even care that he didn't win. (Harry, however, had been perfectly satisfied with his victory.)</p>
<p>Then Sirius had insisted they all jump in the lake in their clothes—Gran, too.</p>
<p>"To clean up," he said good-naturedly as an explanation, but as soon as they were in, he created a giant wave pool.</p>
<p>Harry had been particularly pleased when Hermione, shrieking in delight, was knocked into him by a wave. She'd thrown her arm around him, eyes shining, and he'd been reminded of the way she looked at him when he told her he knew she was his hostage during the second task—only now her teeth weren't chattering and her hair wasn't forming icicles, and they weren't separated by her very heavy robes. No, in their summer clothes, they weren't separated by much at all.</p>
<p>Harry had quite liked that, too.</p>
<p>Later, after they were in dry clothes, and after they'd had dinner and cake, Neville opened his presents. He'd gotten an expensive looking set of gardening tools from his Gran, some fancy-looking fragrance from Sirius that he insisted any girl would like (after one sniff, Hermione confirmed that Sirius' statement was accurate), a homework planner from Hermione (which she insisted was so much more than a homework planner, and after she showed them some of the features, they grudgingly admitted she was right), and a collection of Roald Dahl books from Harry.</p>
<p>"This one's your favorite right?" Neville asked, pointing to <em>James and the Giant Peach</em>.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry agreed, "but I think you'll like this one best."</p>
<p>He pointed to <em>Matilda. </em>He didn't see how Neville wouldn't enjoy a protagonist who got her revenge on her awful bully of a teacher. (Well, headmistress, but the parallels to Neville and Snape were still there.)</p>
<p>"You didn't get <em>The Witches</em>?" Hermione asked, looking through the books.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "Felt a bit derogatory," he confessed. "And besides, I reckon you were probably right about the ending of that one."</p>
<p>Hermione hadn't liked that the main character—a little boy—got stuck as a mouse and would die long before he should have. Harry didn't mind the ending so much when he was younger—at least the boy had his grandmother—but he found it a bit unsettling now.</p>
<p>After Neville opened his presents, they'd set off fireworks in the yard. Neville's face lit up with delight, and Hermione had rested her head on Harry's shoulder, the weight of her a calming presence. Feeling Hermione curled up against him, watching Neville's joy, the way Sirius animatedly put on a show for them all, and seeing the way Gran surveyed the scene with a look Harry couldn't quite decipher but which he didn't think was displeasure, Harry thought it was the most perfect day that had ever existed.</p>
<p>Of course, he had no idea what Sirius had planned for his birthday. When Sirius had asked what he wanted to do, Harry had shrugged—he'd never had a birthday party before, so he'd be grateful for anything they did.</p>
<p>But perhaps he should have given Sirius some sort of guidance because he was liable to come up with pretty much <em>anything</em>. Well, anything he could think up on the Longbottom's land because it had been made very clear that aside from their quick trip to the village, Harry wasn't supposed to go anywhere.</p>
<p>When he and Neville returned downstairs from their bedrooms after getting dressed, the others were waiting for them. Except it wasn't the others. There were three adults, all of whom appeared to be in their forties, all wearing perfectly nondescript muggle clothes: a dark-haired woman and two blonde men. There was also a plain-looking girl with pin-straight blonde hair and blue eyes. She looked completely different, but he'd recognize Hermione's smile anywhere.</p>
<p>"What's this?" Harry asked, exchanging a confused look with Neville.</p>
<p>"A jailbreak," one of the blonde men—Sirius—replied, as Remus plucked Harry's glasses from his face and turned them into sunglasses. Sirius, meanwhile, started to work on the rest of Harry's appearance. When he was done, Harry's hair was a light brown with bangs that hid his scar, and his eyes were a slate grey. Neville similarly had his appearance changed.</p>
<p>"Where are we going?" Harry asked, eager for the unexpected trip.</p>
<p>"Out in the muggle world," Augusta answered.</p>
<p>"I doubt any of Voldemort's spies would even know how to navigate where we're going, but the disguises are a good bit of extra security just in case," Sirius added.</p>
<p>He took hold of Harry's hand, while Augusta paired with Neville and Hermione with Remus.</p>
<p>"Once we get there, we're muggles," Remus said sternly. "No magic, no talk of magic, no using the word muggle."</p>
<p>He looked the most nervous about the plan, but the fact that he was going along with it meant he must've thought it was okay.</p>
<p>Hermione shot him a look of sheer incredulity. "Yes, that will be very hard to pretend," she said pointedly, sharing a smile with Harry. They'd thought they were muggles most of their lives.</p>
<p>Harry felt the familiar lurch of apparition—he really did prefer brooms—and the next thing he knew, he and Sirius were standing in the entranceway of a theme park.</p>
<p>He'd never been to one before. Dudley had gone, of course, but Harry had always been sent to Mrs. Figg's.</p>
<p>"What do you think?" Sirius asked nervously, looking down at Harry with a hopeful expression.</p>
<p>Harry had no idea what to think. He'd never expected… he knew Sirius would do <em>something</em>, but nothing like <em>this.</em></p>
<p>"I think it's brilliant!" Harry declared.</p>
<p>Hermione immediately moved closer to him, slipping her hand in his. He could tell what she was thinking. She clearly wanted him to have this, but her tight grip told him she was nervous about the whole plan.</p>
<p>"Are you sure this is okay?" she asked the adults tentatively. "All these people…"</p>
<p>"The thing about staying out of sight, Hermione, is it's a lot easier to blend in when there are a lot of people around to blend in with," Sirius explained. "And who's going to be paying attention to us here when they're all so focused on their own fun?"</p>
<p>Hermione seemed to consider that and nodded, though she didn't loosen her grip on Harry's hand.</p>
<p>Once they'd entered the park, moving amongst the crowds of people, jostling them this way and that, Hermione's grip loosened. Sirius' words had seemed to sink in—that or she remembered that they looked completely different, were in a park hours away from Neville's home (which no one knew the location of anyway), and most wizards didn't even know parks like this were a thing that existed.</p>
<p>"Where to first?" Sirius asked.</p>
<p>Harry looked down at the map in Remus' hands, and his eyes were immediately drawn to the biggest rollercoaster on it.</p>
<p>"That," he said decidedly.</p>
<p>He felt Hermione's grip tighten, heard Neville's slight intake of breath—though from the look of resolve on his face, he was determined to do this for Harry—and saw Sirius' grin broaden.</p>
<p>"An excellent choice," he nodded, leading them toward the ride.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Rollercoasters were a serious business and Harry finally understood why Dudley loved going so much. They went on every coaster multiple times—well, everyone but Augusta—and even Neville seemed to enjoy himself. Once he realized that rollercoasters had things like safety bars and seats and a track, and didn't go quite as fast as brooms, they didn't seem quite as scary to him.</p>
<p>Harry liked flying on a broom better, but he couldn't deny how fun a rollercoaster could be… especially when Hermione was clutching him, holding onto him for dear life.</p>
<p>"Oh, I don't like this, I don't like this at all," she muttered before every dip or turn or loop, reminding Harry of how she'd clung to him on their hippogriff ride third year. Only he'd been too young then to realize what a thrill it could be.</p>
<p>Still, she always had a brilliant smile once the ride finished, her eyes shining, and she was always excited to go again, so Harry didn't think she actually hated it <em>so</em> much.</p>
<p>There were coasters with loops, and corkscrews, ones that just went really fast, and one that was indoors. Neville seemed to like that one best.</p>
<p>"If I don't know what's coming, it's less scary somehow," he explained.</p>
<p>They did more than rollercoasters, of course. There were rides that swung from side to side, the pirate ship, log flumes, a river rapids ride, a haunted house, various rides where they spun around really fast, a carousel.</p>
<p>Gran even joined in on some of them, though she found the haunted house "a bit derivative."</p>
<p>They stayed until the park closed, packing in as much as they could. When they left, Harry's heart was light and his stomach was full of every sort of junk food there was. He thought that was it, but when they returned to the house, Diggy had a cake waiting for him.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure where to look when they all sang "Happy Birthday!" to him, so he stared intently at the cake. He didn't know what to wish for either—this day had already been perfect and he didn't want to sully it with a wish like "for Voldemort to just go away."</p>
<p>"Time for presents," Neville said eagerly, and Harry blinked at him in surprise.</p>
<p>Well, of course there would be more presents. Hermione had always gotten him one, and the others would, too, but Harry had honestly forgotten all about it.</p>
<p>He opened each one eagerly: a wireless radio from Augusta that was identical to the one in Neville's room; a book on battle Transfiguration from Remus; a new pair of quidditch gloves from Neville, which he'd heard Viktor telling Cedric were the absolute best for seekers during one of their training sessions last year; and a camera from Sirius.</p>
<p>"Thank you," Harry said genuinely, looking down at the camera. He actually had memories he'd want to remember now.</p>
<p>Finally, he turned to Hermione's present. He opened it slowly, revealing a wooden box the size of a large textbook. But when he opened <em>that</em>, the box sprang into a large blue table the size of one you'd play table tennis on. A bag full of small white balls popped up next to it.</p>
<p>To be honest, Harry wasn't sure what it was.</p>
<p>"Is that a transfiguration table?" Remus asked.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, turning to Harry.</p>
<p>"When you told me you were learning battle Transfiguration, well I just thought… see I'd read this in-depth interview with Quinby Masters—he's one of the foremost experts on Transfiguration… he revolutionized the transfiguration of farm animals for cross-border transportation. Anyway, <em>he</em> said that when he was younger, he had a transfiguration table and it helped him hone his skills, and even now when he's stuck on a problem, he plays with one because it helps him think better," Hermione explained anxiously, twisting her hands around nervously.</p>
<p>"I wasn't sure—but you'd said you really liked the lessons, and with a table like this…" she looked at him, trailing off, unsure.</p>
<p>Hermione had always given him great gifts, but they'd usually been food or quidditch related. This was the first time she'd ventured out of that comfort zone.</p>
<p>"How does it work?" Harry asked, still not exactly sure what a transfiguration table was.</p>
<p>"Oh!" Hermione said, her face lighting up the way it did whenever she got to explain something. "Well you put the ball on the table and transfigure it into something, and then your opponent transfigures that into something, and you go back and forth like table tennis," she said. "Only the table acts as a barrier—whatever you transfigure can't go beyond the table, and it'll only go up in the air five feet. And you can practice transfiguring large things—like a dragon or a bear—in miniature first. So you can use it as just a fun game, or you can use it to work out strategies—"</p>
<p>Harry could already see the possibilities. There had been a couple of times when they'd been training when the transfiguration had gone a bit wrong and if Sirius hadn't been there, someone might have been injured. With this, they'd be able to safely continue training when they went back to Hogwarts. The room of requirement was great, but Harry wasn't sure if it could save them from a bear (not that he was anywhere near that level yet).</p>
<p>"It's brilliant!" he said, smiling at Hermione.</p>
<p>"R-really?" she asked, still uncertain of her present.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry nodded emphatically. It as exactly the sort of thing he needed for training, and exactly the sort of thing that could be fun just because. One thing he'd learned this summer is the wizarding world had a lot more to offer in terms of games than just quidditch, wizard's chess and exploding snap.</p>
<p>Harry ran his fingers over the ball, suddenly feeling the urge to try it out. "Want to have a go?" he asked, looking up at Hermione hopefully.</p>
<p>She nodded happily, and Sirius and Remus started clearing furniture to make more space. As it turned out, Harry's birthday wasn't over just quite yet.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Everything felt better with Hermione at Wiggentree Manor. It was like it had been at Easter, only better, because now Harry could kiss Hermione whenever he wanted and Sirius was also here.</p>
<p>He also found that he was having fewer and fewer nightmares—whether that was because of Hermione's presence or just a coincidence, he wasn't sure, but he was grateful for his nighttime reprieve.</p>
<p>Hermione wasted no time settling into the manor, getting caught up on everything that had been going on that they hadn't been able to put into letters. He had been dreading telling her about the nightmares—hadn't wanted to see the fear in her eyes—but while she was clearly scared when he told her about Voldemort's weapon, she was also resolved, and her logical approach to the matter calmed his nerves.</p>
<p>"Whatever he's after, the Order knows about it," she reasoned. "So it's not like we can be blindsided by it."</p>
<p>Still, Harry, Hermione and Neville all agreed that Dumbledore must know what the weapon was—and the fact that he was keeping it a secret, even from Sirius, was puzzling.</p>
<p>Hermione also joined them in the lake and Neville in the greenhouse when Harry and Sirius played swivenhodge (though Harry and Sirius found themselves playing less and less of that, as the four of them made use of the transfiguration table instead).</p>
<p>When they were in the Auror Room, transfiguration was a serious business, but the table felt like something else altogether—it was freeing in a way, trying to come up with new and inventive things to turn the ball into. They often played in teams—Sirius and Neville against Harry and Hermione—and he felt a pride he'd never really felt before when Sirius would applaud the way he turned a vase into a butterfly, or when Hermione shrieked in excitement, wrapping her arms around his neck when his iguana turned out all right.</p>
<p>He wasn't as good as her at it—her transfigurations were always flawless, while his butterflies sometimes still bore the pattern of the vase—but Transfiguration didn't feel as pointless as it did when they were in class and turning matchsticks into needles.</p>
<p>The Auror Room was a different story. Hermione wanted to join him in his lessons and Sirius gladly agreed. Hermione's bubbles were far better than his—she created thousands effortlessly, and where it took him awhile to get the hang of changing their shapes, she did it perfectly right off the bat.</p>
<p>But when they battled Sirius, Harry found he had the upper hand. Most of the time, Hermione's transfigurations were flawless, but sometimes she faltered under Sirius' practiced, relentless attack. Usually, this only happened when he threw a fireball or flying swords at her (and, obviously, Sirius always stopped them before they could do any damage).</p>
<p>It frustrated her, he could tell, the way she'd accomplish the transfiguration 10 times, but then slip up when Sirius hit her with something she didn't expect. She'd furrow her brow in concentration, chewing on her lip, tripling her efforts to focus on the task.</p>
<p>"How do you do it?" she asked him once, a note of discouragement in her voice.</p>
<p>"You're better at Transfiguration than me," Harry pointed out to her.</p>
<p>"But you don't freeze up when Sirius attacks you with a fireball," Hermione said, clearly exasperated.</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. He didn't really think it would be best to point out to his girlfriend that he had a bit more practice than her at dodging things that were trying to kill him.</p>
<p>"I just don't really think about it," Harry said instead. "I just react."</p>
<p>Hermione looked dubious.</p>
<p>"It's like when you slapped Malfoy or when Neville hit Snape with that spell," Harry continued. "Sometimes you just have to act on instinct."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him thoughtfully and then rolled her shoulders back. He could hear her mentally lecturing herself to just act.</p>
<p>She needed to relax.</p>
<p>He could probably help her out with that.</p>
<p>And absolutely, that's something that he did… or tried to, anyway. Augusta seemed to be everywhere, reading her paper or knitting the world's longest scarf in whatever room Harry and Hermione happened to be alone in.</p>
<p>Neville tried to run interference—asking his grandmother to go out to the greenhouse with him or to give her opinion on what color he should paint his room. But even when Augusta was gone, Diggy always seemed to choose that moment to deep clean wherever Harry and Hermione were.</p>
<p>"Come on," Harry whispered to her once Diggy set about polishing the goblin-made silver mirror across from the sofa where they were seated.</p>
<p>Hermione looked at Diggy, a crease marring the space between her brows—he didn't know if she'd ever be okay with Diggy's situation, even if the Longbottoms did treat her well—before following him outside.</p>
<p>Harry's path was purposeful. He hadn't been in the Secret Garden since Neville forced him to go see the baby bowtruckles, but Hermione was here now.</p>
<p>She grinned when she realized their path, increasing her pace slightly. They practically sped through the greenhouse.</p>
<p>Harry made sure to look at her face as they entered the garden, and sure enough, was rewarded with a look of complete peace and delight, her features transforming instantly.</p>
<p>They settled down on a patch of grass near a swirl of dahlias, gardenias and roses, the wildlife rising up around them, acting as an extra barrier to everything outside.</p>
<p>"I missed this place," she said, her hand playing absentmindedly with a blade of grass.</p>
<p>"Next year, you've got to be here for the baby bowtruckles," Harry said. "I've never seen anything like it."</p>
<p>Hermione looked at him contemplatively. "Do you think you and Sirius will be here next year?" she asked. "Maybe he'll have bought a place by then."</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. He wasn't all that used to thinking about the future.</p>
<p>"Sirius told me he and Augusta have planned for this place to be protected under the Fidelius for a long time," he said. "I don't think he's thinking about us going anywhere."</p>
<p>Hermione nodded. "I suppose with You-Know-Who, everything is on hold," she said.</p>
<p>She paused and Harry suddenly felt on guard, her hesitation causing the hairs on his arms to stand up.</p>
<p>She took a deep breath and plowed ahead. "Neville told me you've had a lot of dreams," she said diplomatically.</p>
<p>You've been talking about me?" Harry asked, his voice sharp. He didn't like that at all.</p>
<p>"Yes, Harry," she said.</p>
<p>Hermione didn't look at all apologetic about it. If anything, there was a hint of exasperation in her tone.</p>
<p>"The same way you and I talk about Neville when he's going through something," she added. "Because we care about you. And if you're having these dreams—"</p>
<p>"I don't want to talk about the dreams," he said flatly. "It's not a big deal."</p>
<p>Just a mixture of Winky and Crouch being murdered, the Cruciatus curse, his mum pleading for his life as a baby, and whatever Voldemort and his followers were up to now, since Harry somehow had a direct connection into Voldemort's mind. None of that was any sort of deal at all.</p>
<p>Hermione didn't look convinced either.</p>
<p>"I didn't press it when we were at Hogwarts, but… Harry, you have to talk to <em>someone</em> about these things," she implored.</p>
<p>He knew he was being a hypocrite. He wanted her to tell him about her parents, to open up about her problems—even if he was rubbish at saying the right thing—and he really shouldn't be shocked that she wanted him to do the same.</p>
<p>But even still, he didn't want to think about the dreams, didn't want to think about that night in the graveyard. When he was awake, he was somehow able to compartmentalize all of that and he didn't want to open those doors.</p>
<p>"Can we just be in the garden?" he asked. He heard the pleading note in his voice and he hated it.</p>
<p>Hermione studied him for a long time, her warm, brown eyes raking over him, compassion flowing out of her. She nodded slowly, and Harry let out a breath.</p>
<p>He smiled, feeling more centered now that that was over.</p>
<p>"I didn't really suggest coming out here to talk anyway," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione looked around the garden, and to his surprise, blushed crimson.</p>
<p>"We were in this garden when I first realized I wanted to kiss you," she confessed.</p>
<p>Really? But that was <em>months</em> ago. Harry didn't want to think about how much better his life would've been if Hermione had just acted on her feelings. Even if he hadn't known how he felt back then, he'd like to think her lips would've helped his brain to catch up.</p>
<p>She looked nervous, and Harry felt like he should reciprocate so she wouldn't feel so vulnerable. "For me, it was in the library," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione's eyes were alight with pleasure. "Really?" she blurted. "The library?"</p>
<p>Harry leaned in, unable to resist the delight on her face.</p>
<p>"You're very in your element there," he said, his lips hovering close enough to hers to feel their breath mingling together. "I could watch you read those books for hours."</p>
<p>"You have," Hermione said dryly, gliding her hand into his hair, and pulling him closer. "Next time we're in the stacks, let's try out your idea."</p>
<p>He closed the fraction of a distance between them, felt the softness of her lips, the taste of her tongue, the way her hands gripped his hair when he moved to explore her neck, her collarbone, her earlobe, the way she whimpered involuntarily and molded against him when he did. He smelled the citrus of her hair mingling with the fragrance of the roses and the gardenias, and the only thought that he had before settling into thoughts of her was to hell with Voldemort and the future: Being with Hermione, snogging the girl he cared about more than anyone else in the world, in this garden that they both loved so much, was all that mattered in this moment.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Even with Hermione's help questioning the portraits and going through the books in the library, they were no closer to figuring out anything about Helga Hufflepuff's office or the house elves.</p>
<p>Sirius had asked Dumbledore and Professor Sprout about it on one of his trips to Hogwarts to create the maps for the professors, but reported back that neither of them had ever heard of any such room.</p>
<p>"Well that's disappointing," Hermione frowned when he told them the news. "If any living person would know, it would be them."</p>
<p>It was raining out, so they were all lounging in the sitting room, reading books and comics, listening to the wireless radio.</p>
<p>"We've still got Hannah's journals though," Neville pointed out from his spot on the floor. "From what you said, there are still hundreds to go through."</p>
<p>Hermione had told them all about her trip to Hannah's, excitedly reporting everything she'd learned about Hogwarts from those books.</p>
<p>"And," Sirius added, "as someone who spent more time at Hogwarts exploring the castle than he did going to classes, I can tell you that sometimes all you need to do to find what you're looking for is to go looking for it."</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Think of all those prefect patrols you'll have, Hermione. That'll give you hours to look for hidden rooms and passageways."</p>
<p>Hermione flushed. "Well, we have no idea—McGonagall could pick anyone—there's no guarantee that it'll be <em>me</em>, of course," she rushed out, shooting a flustered look at Harry.</p>
<p>Neville snickered. "Now, that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," he laughed, sharing a grin with Harry.</p>
<p>"Of course," Neville added thoughtfully, "the two of you will be searching on those prefect patrols together."</p>
<p>Harry shot him a confused glance. "You think it will be me?" he asked, surprised.</p>
<p>Neville leveled a look at him. "Who are Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore going to pick? <em>Seamus?</em>" he asked incredulously.</p>
<p>Well, no, probably not Seamus.</p>
<p>"Well, there are loads of us," Harry said. "And I've gotten into plenty of trouble—"</p>
<p>"So did Remus and he was prefect," Sirius pointed out.</p>
<p>"Yes, but look at the alternatives to Remus," Harry said. "From what you told us, it was either him or the friends who convinced him to get into trouble in the first place."</p>
<p>Sirius grinned. "That's true," he said. "Minerva had slim pickings that particular year." He surveyed Harry and Neville. "She's got a lot more to work with now."</p>
<p>Harry hadn't spent a lot of time thinking about who would be prefect, if he were being honest. He <em>did</em> like the idea of nighttime patrols with Hermione, and he <em>definitely </em>liked the idea of getting recognition for something that wasn't about his scar or his quidditch skills, but that was about <em>him.</em> And yet… there was a big part of him screaming at him not to hope for anything, that he'd just be disappointed.</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head, pulling Harry from his thoughts.</p>
<p>"Regardless, prefect patrol is <em>supposed</em> to be about patrolling the hallways, not finding secret rooms," she said, a hint of a scolding to her tone.</p>
<p>"Spoken like a true prefect," Sirius muttered, flipping a page in his book.</p>
<p>Harry and Neville shared a grin. Hermione sat up straighter, looking like she wasn't sure if that was supposed to be an insult or a compliment. Knowing Sirius, it was probably a bit of both.</p>
<p>"Well, we don't have to wait until Hogwarts to search for the office," she said, clearly having decided to ignore Sirius' comment. "Hannah's invited me back next week, and she said you two could come too if you want."</p>
<p>But Harry couldn't go. Sirius put his foot down that his jailbreak had been a special treat for his birthday, but it wasn't safe for Harry to be wandering around wizard dwellings without any protection, even if a member of the Order was with him.</p>
<p>"So it's not safe for me, but it's safe for Neville and Hermione?" he asked incredulously.</p>
<p>"No one's keeping tabs on them the way they are on you," Sirius told him.</p>
<p>It seemed like a stupid argument to Harry, which was exactly what he told Sirius.</p>
<p>Sirius sighed. "I know you don't like it," he said, "but everything we're doing is to keep you as safe as possible."</p>
<p>At least Sirius didn't say something stupid like "keep you safe." Safe was something Harry would never be as long as Voldemort was alive.</p>
<p>He wanted to argue more, but he figured the only thing he'd accomplish by pushing the matter would be getting Neville and Hermione barred from going to Hannah's, too.</p>
<p>Still, Sirius seemed to feel bad about Harry's frustration and right before lunch the next day—another rainy, gloomy day—he suggested that they all go to Order headquarters—another place that was under the Fidelius—so that Harry could see Ron and the other Weasleys.</p>
<p>The way they were all treating him with kid gloves still rankled, but he wasn't about to turn down a trip to see his other friends and get a peek at headquarters just because he was feeling sullen.</p>
<p>And so, Augusta and Sirius apparated them to a London street—Harry was under his invisibility cloak—showing them all a slip of paper that told them all that headquarters was at 12 Grimmauld Place. And just like that, a townhouse appeared between numbers 11 and 13.</p>
<p>They entered through a battered door, and a damp, rotting smell immediately hit Harry. Old-fashioned gas lamps were lit, spreading odd flickerings of light over peeling wallpaper, a threadbare carpet and age-blackened paintings.</p>
<p>Sirius, who was standing completely erect, a tightly wound energy emanating from him, put his finger to his lips and then pointed to moth-eaten curtains.</p>
<p>"My mother," he mouthed. "You don't want to wake her."</p>
<p>Augusta sniffed. "She was a mean old hag until the day she died," she retorted, cluing Harry into the fact that they must be talking about a portrait behind the curtain.</p>
<p>"You knew his mother?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"With the way she screamed, everyone who lived in the surrounding three counties knew my mother," Sirius remarked, leading them up a flight of stairs.</p>
<p>The wall was covered in plaques that held the shrunken heads of dead house elves. Harry felt revulsion churn through him, and he sped up his ascent.</p>
<p>"Oh!" Hermione cried when she saw them, shuddering.</p>
<p>They made it to the landing and into a drawing room that was in almost as sorry a state of affairs as the entryway, though a fire was going in the fireplace and the smell in the room was more musty than rotting, at the very least. Magazines littered the end table and there was a half-played game of chess on the table, so someone had been using this room.</p>
<p>"I'd better find Molly," Sirius said. "She's been cleaning up this decrepit house of horrors—she's had to with her family living here—but I should see if she needs any help."</p>
<p>"I'll join you," Augusta added firmly.</p>
<p>"I'm sure the others will be down soon," Sirius said. "If not, Ginny's room is down the hall and the boys are upstairs. Just keep clear of Kreacher."</p>
<p>"Who's Kreacher?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>"The family house elf," Sirius snarled. "He's as demented as my mother."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione exchanged a confused glance. Sirius had been downright supportive of their cause to help the house elves; they'd never expected him to refer to one so cruelly.</p>
<p>Sirius caught their glance and laughed bitterly. "You've never met him," he explained curtly. "I agree with you that house elves should be treated better—Merlin knows my family's habit of beheading them to showcase them as art is as despicable as it gets—but just like not all wizards are good, not all house elves are either. Kreacher's been alone for years, taking orders from my twisted mother's painting. And even before that he was… well, he fit right in with my mad family. Just stay out of his way and leave him to me to deal with."</p>
<p>Harry nodded slowly, but didn't like this change in Sirius. Ever since they'd entered this house, he'd been different. His tone was bitter, his face closed off. Sirius didn't want to be here at all.</p>
<p>Sirius and Augusta left, and the trio all glanced around, taking in their surroundings.</p>
<p>It was a gloomy, depressing place. Even with all of the Weasleys filling it, Harry didn't see how Ron or Ginny could have had any sort of fun here this summer. Any bitterness he had felt toward Ron for his letters, the ones that seemed to be taunting him about being at headquarters, evaporated.</p>
<p>Being at headquarters was awful.</p>
<p>He wandered over to the chessboard, studying the game. Black seemed to be winning, but he wasn't very good at chess, so he couldn't be sure. What he was sure about was that this must be Ron's game.</p>
<p>There was a loud crack behind them and then a familiar voice warned, "Don't you dare touch that game, Harry!"</p>
<p>He turned. Fred and George were standing in the middle of the room, practically on top of Neville.</p>
<p>"Sorry about that Neville," George apologized, stepping away. "Still getting the hang of it."</p>
<p>"It's all right," Neville said, greeting the twins.</p>
<p>"So you passed your apparition tests then?" Hermione asked curiously.</p>
<p>"With distinction," Fred beamed proudly, flopping down on the sofa and flipping open one of the magazines.</p>
<p>"What are you lot doing here?" George asked, taking a seat in the armchair. Harry, Hermione and Neville followed suit. "Not that we're not happy to see you, of course. Have they roped you into cleaning, too?"</p>
<p>"No," Harry said. "We just wanted to see you all."</p>
<p>Fred grinned. "Well, we quite like you, too," he said.</p>
<p>Harry turned back toward the chessboard. "Why didn't you want me to touch it?" he asked.</p>
<p>Fred and George exchanged a glance.</p>
<p>"Because Ron would murder you, that's why," Fred explained.</p>
<p>"Wouldn't that be a twist ending? Harry Potter survives You-Know-Who multiple times, killed by a 15-year-old with a crush," George snickered.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>"He and Mandy Brocklehurst have been exchanging letters all summer," Fred said. "They're pretty boring—"</p>
<p>"He let you read them?" Harry asked incredulously.</p>
<p>Fred and George looked at him like he was dense.</p>
<p>"Well, when he just leaves them out for anyone to see, right under his pillow—"</p>
<p>"You shouldn't have done that!" Hermione chastised.</p>
<p>"Ginny's the one who found them," Fred said nonchalantly.</p>
<p>"Still," Hermione scolded, "you didn't have to read them. They were private letters!"</p>
<p>Fred did not look like he cared at all about that. He shrugged, adding, "Anyway, they've been playing chess against each other all summer and he's very serious about the game."</p>
<p>"He just about attacked me when I turned the rooks into tiny teddy bears," George added.</p>
<p>Neville, Hermione and Harry all exchanged a glance: If this was how Ron's summer had been going, there's no way he'd be in a good mood today. And Harry couldn't really blame him.</p>
<p>What he didn't get is why Ron didn't mention any of this in his letters.</p>
<p>The door to the drawing room opened and a red-haired girl popped her head inside.</p>
<p>You're here!" Ginny cried. She ran over to Hermione and grabbed her hand, dragging her up from the sofa.</p>
<p>"Come on!" Ginny demanded, pulling her from the room. Harry didn't even have a chance to say anything before the two girls disappeared from sight.</p>
<p>George shook his head. "She's been acting weird all summer too," he commented.</p>
<p>"All of our siblings are nutters," Fred said to his brother adopting a faux-commiserating tone. "We're the only normal ones in the bunch."</p>
<p>Harry and Neville exchanged a grin, which the twins clearly caught.</p>
<p>"I think they're mocking us brother," Fred said.</p>
<p>"Never," Harry snarked.</p>
<p>Neville glanced at the forgotten stack of cards on the table next to him. "Exploding snap?" he suggested.</p>
<p>Fred shrugged. "All right," he agreed.</p>
<p>"Better than cleaning," George added gaily. "I think maybe Mum'll forget about it for a minute while you lot are here."</p>
<p>But Harry couldn't play just yet. He and Hermione had decided ages ago that they'd tell Ron and Ginny they were together before they went back to Hogwarts, and this might be their only chance.</p>
<p>Hopefully, Ron wasn't in too bad of a mood.</p>
<p>"I'm going to go find Ron," Harry announced, standing up.</p>
<p>Neville nodded at him, communicating his understanding that Harry and Ron had to talk alone.</p>
<p>"Upstairs and to the right," Fred said to Harry, vaguely pointing at the ceiling while he focused on the cards Neville had given him.</p>
<p>Harry exited the room and looked up the long, dark, foreboding staircase, wondering what he'd find when he got up there.</p>
<hr/>
<p>This level was as desolate and gloomy as the two below it. Cobwebs hung in the corners and while Harry could tell Molly and the rest of the Weasleys had tried hard to make it livable, he didn't think anything could help this house.</p>
<p>There was one door with light peeking out through the crack between the door and the floor. Harry knocked.</p>
<p>"Come in!" Ron called.</p>
<p>Harry found him laying on a bed, listlessly paging through a copy of <em>Which Broomstick</em>. When he saw Harry, he sat up.</p>
<p>"Hey!" he said, perking up. "I wondered… thought maybe you were Sirius. No one in my family bothers to knock."</p>
<p>Harry nodded, sitting on the empty bed across from Ron. The mattress was bare, but it looked like it had been cleaned recently.</p>
<p>"Yeah, I heard that the twins and Ginny have been snooping," Harry said.</p>
<p>Ron's face went dark. "But if I went reading Ginny's diary, Mum'd lecture me for a week," he retorted. "Never mind that she's the one who went writing in a diary to a lunatic murderer."</p>
<p>Harry didn't really know what to say to that. He'd never had siblings, but he had a feeling that if he said anything negative about Ginny behind her back, Ron might see it as an insult and round on him for it, even though Ron had been the one to say something first.</p>
<p>"Hermione yelled at Fred and George for invading your privacy," he said instead, thinking that might make Ron feel better. "She's in Ginny's room now, and I reckon she'll tell her the same."</p>
<p>"Really?" Ron asked, the surprise evident in his expression. It was then that Harry realized just how fundamentally changed things between Ron and Hermione were—they may have fought bitterly in years past, but the Ron they were both best friends with would never be shocked that Hermione would defend him when his siblings were clearly in the wrong. Everyone knew Hermione was incapable of staying silent when she thought someone had done something immoral.</p>
<p>"Of course," Harry said. "She's your friend."</p>
<p>Ron didn't look particularly convinced by that statement. Harry felt his stomach drop.</p>
<p>"You didn't mention Mandy in your letters," Harry said, wanting to change the subject.</p>
<p>Ron's ears turned red. "Oh, well," he said, staring intently at the magazine. "It's not much of anything, you know. We're just talking about chess mostly."</p>
<p>He didn't sound particularly convincing.</p>
<p>"But she's all right," he added happily, smiling slightly.</p>
<p>Harry didn't know Mandy well at all. The Gryffindors and the Ravenclaws didn't share any classes, and so he'd never spoken to her, but he was glad for anyone who made Ron's summer a little less miserable.</p>
<p>"How's your summer been?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Ron shrugged. "Fine," he said. "We've been cleaning loads. The Order's been in and out—we've seen Snape a bunch so that's been a real highlight."</p>
<p>Ron explained about the Order meetings, how his Mum tried to keep them out, and all about Fred and George's extendable ears. From the sound of it, Harry really had learned more about what the Order was up to at Wiggentree Manor than Ron had learned here.</p>
<p>"A word of warning," Ron said. "Things between Mum and Sirius are a bit… tense."</p>
<p>"Why?" Harry asked, shocked.</p>
<p>"Well, you know how Mum feels about Fred and George's joke shop idea," he said. "But once Sirius saw the extendable ears—they were in the middle of a huge row with Mum about it—he got real interested in the shop. Whenever he's here, he's always got his head together with the twins, whispering about something. Ginny and I reckon maybe he's thinking of investing. At least, that's what Mum seems to think and she's clearly not pleased about it."</p>
<p>"Why not?" Harry asked, incensed. "She can't possibly still want them to get some stuffy Ministry job."</p>
<p>Ron shrugged. "Who knows?" he said. "She certainly hasn't been as keen on the Ministry since Fudge went mad. Dad and Percy have had a right state of it there, and she was beyond angry when Fudge tried to get Dumbledore sacked from the Wizengamot."</p>
<p>"But she still doesn't think the joke shop is a good idea?"</p>
<p>Ron shrugged again. "Not really," he said. "But she's been all over the place. The only thing that seems to make her happy lately is that Bill took a desk job in London."</p>
<p>"Is he here?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"He's at work now, but yeah, he's staying here," Ron said. "Percy took one look at this place and rented a flat on his own."</p>
<p>Harry couldn't blame him.</p>
<p>"What about you?" Ron asked. "How's your summer been?"</p>
<p>"Good," Harry said, suddenly feeling nervous. This was the opening to tell Ron about Hermione.</p>
<p>He shouldn't feel nervous about it. There was no reason for Ron to have a problem with their relationship—if anything, getting this secret out in the open should only bring them closer together. It was a way of getting things back to normal.</p>
<p>"Really good, actually," Harry said, sitting up straighter. "Living with Sirius has been brilliant and…"</p>
<p>Ron sat up straighter too picking up on Harry's hesitation.</p>
<p>"Well, listen," Harry said, "some things have changed. Hermione and I—we're sort of dating."</p>
<p>He glanced at Ron uneasily, wondering what he'd see. Ron was staring back at him, a blank expression on his face.</p>
<p>"You and Hermione."</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"Are sort of dating."</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>"What does 'sort of' mean?"</p>
<p>"Er…. The same as regular dating, I suppose."</p>
<p>Ron was silent, his brow furrowed in confusion.</p>
<p>"You and Hermione."</p>
<p>"Yes."</p>
<p>More silence.</p>
<p>"But… <em>why</em>?"</p>
<p>Harry felt a pit of his stomach. "What do you mean <em>why</em>?" he asked edgily.</p>
<p>"Well, it's just… she's just… you've been friends for years," Ron blurted, fumbling wildly for what he was trying to say. "And you've never seemed to be interested at all!"</p>
<p>Harry shrugged. "Well, I'm interested now," he said. "And, you know, that was also when we were eleven. I wasn't particularly interested in snogging any girl when I was eleven."</p>
<p>Ron's eyes widened comically at that particular thought.</p>
<p>"You two have snogged?" he exclaimed.</p>
<p>Harry turned red, thinking of two days ago in the Secret Garden when Hermione had pushed him up against the Wiggentree. The bark had been rough and unyielding against his back, and she'd been soft and warm in his arms, her tongue exploring his mouth in intricate detail. Harry didn't think Hermione did anything in half measures.</p>
<p>"Well, yeah," he said in a strangled sort of voice.</p>
<p>Ron shook his head slightly, not even seeming to see Harry.</p>
<p>"Who else knows?" he finally asked. "Neville?"</p>
<p>There was a jealous tinge to the way he said Neville.</p>
<p>"Yeah," Harry said slowly, deciding to omit that Neville had known back at Hogwarts. "We're both living with him and his Gran, so they know. And Sirius and Remus, too."</p>
<p>"Of course," Ron said, his voice clipped. "Of course you'd tell your <em>best friend</em> first."</p>
<p>Harry felt the anger rising in him. The only reason Neville had had the opportunity to become his best friend is because Ron had decided he didn't want the title for months.</p>
<p>And sure, he'd gone to Neville for advice and not Ron, but that's because Hermione hadn't exactly been a safe topic for him and Ron back then.</p>
<p>"Well, Neville was <em>happy</em> for me when I told him," Harry shot back. "Are you?"</p>
<p>Ron's head shot up, bewildered.</p>
<p>"Of course I am!" he retorted. "I just don't know why you couldn't tell me about it first."</p>
<p>"Because you and Hermione have been weird around each other for ages," Harry snapped. "What was I supposed to say, 'Ron, I fancy the girl you've been avoiding for weeks'? What would your advice have been?"</p>
<p>"So Neville knew <em>before</em> you started snogging her?" Ron asked, seizing that bit of information.</p>
<p>"I'm not going to apologize for confiding in a friend," Harry said through gritted teeth. "I just wanted to tell you I'm dating Hermione."</p>
<p>Ron stood up, then didn't seem to know what to do with himself, pacing around in a circle like a cat before turning to Harry, one hand on his hip.</p>
<p>"I just don't… you and Hermione… but she's so… she's so… <em>infuriating</em> sometimes."</p>
<p>"Funny," Harry said flatly, "I was thinking the same thing about you just now."</p>
<p>Ron looked like he'd been slapped.</p>
<p>"Why were you friends with her for years then?" Harry asked. "You must've liked something about her to keep hanging around her, especially with the way you too always fought."</p>
<p>Harry was standing now, too.</p>
<p>"Well, of course I <em>liked</em> her," Ron muttered. "But there's a difference between hanging around a girl and—"</p>
<p>He cut off, turning red.</p>
<p>The pit in Harry's stomach deepened. He knew about Ginny's theory that Ron had once had a crush on Hermione. Was it possible?</p>
<p>But no. He'd just gone all red about Mandy.</p>
<p>"Ron… do <em>you</em> like Hermione?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"What?" Ron exclaimed, sputtering. "Of course not! She's bossy and she studies all the time, and she barely knows anything about quidditch, and she's always yelling at me about something! It'd be like dating my mum!"</p>
<p>Ron shuddered at the thought, but a part of Harry thought maybe Ron was protesting too much.</p>
<p>Or maybe Harry was just seeing something that wasn't there.</p>
<p>Ron ran a hand down his face, rubbing his cheeks. They both stood there silently, considering each other.</p>
<p>"I just didn't realize the two of you would ever be interested, that's all," Ron finally said. "But I think it's great—really!"</p>
<p>He didn't seem particularly enthusiastic about the idea, but he <em>did</em> seem eager to end the fight.</p>
<p>Then Ron seemed to realize something and his enthusiasm seemed genuine.</p>
<p>"What?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I just realized," Ron said happily, "this is why you've been siding with her, isn't it?"</p>
<p>He walked over to Harry, clapping him on the shoulder. "You could've just <em>told</em> me you fancied her and wanted to get on her good side," he chirped, grinning at Harry. "I would've understood <em>that</em>."</p>
<p>"That's not why—"</p>
<p>But Ron wasn't listening to him because the door had opened—Ron was right about his privacy—and Ginny was standing there, leaning her hip against the doorway. Hermione was standing behind her.</p>
<p>"Mum needs us in the kitchen, Ron," Ginny announced glumly. Ron's shoulders slumped.</p>
<p>"Great," he muttered. "More work."</p>
<p>"We'll come help in a minute," Hermione told Ginny and Ron as the siblings left. Ron gave Hermione an inscrutable look as he passed her.</p>
<p>Hermione shut the door and looked at Harry anxiously.</p>
<p>"How'd it go?" she asked.</p>
<p>"How'd it go for you?" Harry questioned.</p>
<p>"Oh, I didn't really get a chance," Hermione said, looking flustered. "I know we said we would when we saw them, but <em>we</em> didn't talk first—Ginny pulled me out of the room so fast. But she and I sort of, er, heard shouting up here. So… I guess it didn't go well?"</p>
<p>Harry sat back down on the bare mattress. "I honestly don't know," he said.</p>
<p>Hermione sat down next to him, placing her hand on top of his. Harry closed his eyes, feeling a surge of warmth as she did.</p>
<p>"What did he say?" Hermione asked delicately.</p>
<p>Harry didn't want to tell her that Ron had called her infuriating, knowing that would only hurt her.</p>
<p>"He was jealous that I told Neville first," he said. "And he seemed to think that the only reason why I told him to be nicer to you was because you were my girlfriend."</p>
<p>Harry was getting angry just thinking about it—as if the only reason he told Ron off for what he'd done at the Yule Ball was because he fancied Hermione. Harry hadn't even fancied her back then!</p>
<p>He felt Hermione stiffen beside him, her hand gripping his more tightly.</p>
<p>"Is that what I am?" she asked. "Your girlfriend?"</p>
<p>Harry turned to look at her, surprised. She was biting her lip and her eyes were wide. He couldn't read what he saw in them.</p>
<p>Well, wasn't she? He knew they'd never talked about it explicitly, but they'd been snogging since June and they'd had a whole discussion about telling Ron and Ginny they were together, and… well, wasn't she?</p>
<p>"Aren't you?" he blurted, feeling panic rising in his throat. "You're my best friend and we snog—isn't that what a girlfriend is?"</p>
<p>He'd always known he'd be rubbish at relationships, always known he'd find a way to screw this up somehow, but he didn't really think he'd manage to find a way before she was even his girlfriend. Was he supposed to have asked her? Was that a thing?</p>
<p>He peeked at Hermione, whose face had softened.</p>
<p>"Yes," she said quietly. "I suppose that's exactly what a girlfriend is."</p>
<p>She kissed him gently, and as she did, he felt the anxiety pour out of him. This was <em>right.</em></p>
<p>She deepened the kiss, pulling him toward her possessively, but something was niggling him.</p>
<p>"Hermione," he said, breaking away from her.</p>
<p>"Hmm?" she asked, planting butterfly kisses across his cheek, his jawline, his neck.</p>
<p>God, she was testing him.</p>
<p>"Did you really not know?" he asked, willing himself not to give in to her ministrations and to focus on the conversation they had to have.</p>
<p>Hermione's lips froze against his neck. She pulled back, her hands falling from his neck and hair to her lap. Harry felt the loss of her warmth.</p>
<p>"Well, I knew it was more than snogging," she said, looking down at her hands. "But we'd never made it official so…"</p>
<p>"So why didn't you say anything?" Harry asked.</p>
<p><em>He </em>hadn't said anything because he thought they were both on the same page. But if she was sitting there wondering what they were, why hadn't she just <em>talked</em> to him?</p>
<p>Hermione shrugged one of her shoulders uncomfortably. "I don't know," she said, looking anywhere but at him. "At first, it felt ridiculous to bring it up after what happened at the Third Task. And then I didn't want to broach it in a letter. And since we've been at Neville's together—there's You-Know-Who and the war, everything the Order is doing, our training, searching for answers on the house elves… a label just seemed so inconsequential."</p>
<p>It wasn't like her. Hermione liked <em>knowing</em> things. If this were a class, she wouldn't consider any detail inconsequential.</p>
<p>Of course, this wasn't a class. This was a relationship. In the classroom, Hermione was completely sure of herself, completely confident. Even though they were best friends, even though they knew each other better than anyone, being in a relationship was new to them both. Maybe she was as unsure of how this whole thing was supposed to work as he was.</p>
<p>He found the thought oddly comforting.</p>
<p>"Is that why you didn't talk to Ginny?" he asked. "Because you weren't sure what to tell her?"</p>
<p>"Yes," Hermione admitted. "I figured we'd talk about it at some point, but Sirius sprung this trip on us last minute. But then you clearly <em>did</em> talk to Ron, so… I should have just brought it up."</p>
<p>There was a chastising note to her voice.</p>
<p>"I probably should've asked you to be my girlfriend," Harry said. "Instead of just assuming it."</p>
<p>"This isn't the 1400s," Hermione pointed out. "I could've asked you."</p>
<p>They turned to look at each other, grinning.</p>
<p>Harry reached up to her cheek, cradling her head in his hand, his grin fading as his face turned more serious.</p>
<p>"Listen, I know my life is complicated and that my problems sometimes take over everything," Harry said, feeling like that was the understatement of the year, "but nothing about this—us, you—is inconsequential, okay?"</p>
<p>It was vitally important that she know that.</p>
<p>An affectionate smile blossomed on Hermione's face, warming everything. The anxiety in her eyes was replaced by something decidedly more heated, a mixture of possessiveness and craving that Harry found intoxicating.</p>
<p>"Okay… <em>boyfriend</em>," she whispered, capturing his lips with hers, sending a shockwave of desire through him. Harry groaned, leaning forward. Hermione yielded until she was laying on the mattress, her hair spread out in intricate swirls of patterns, Harry hovering above her.</p>
<p>He was vaguely aware that they were in Ron's room, but at this particular moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. All he cared about was her.</p>
<p>He wasn't sure how long they were there, but Harry <em>was</em> sure he didn't hear the very loud crack behind them.</p>
<p>He did, however, hear Fred's booming voice.</p>
<p>"Oi!" Fred shouted from behind them. "Mum wants you both downstairs for lunch."</p>
<p>Harry felt Hermione's hands pushing Harry off her as she quickly shot up and adjusted her clothes. Her hair was a mess and her lips were puffy, and Harry didn't think she'd ever looked prettier.</p>
<p>She adjusted the hem of her shirt, shooting an embarrassed look at Fred.</p>
<p>"You could've <em>knocked</em>," Harry said grumpily.</p>
<p>Fred raised his eyebrow. "I also could've let Mum come and get you like she wanted," he said pointedly. "You're welcome."</p>
<p>Well. Fred was certainly better than Mrs. Weasley.</p>
<p>Fred shook his head at them. "You're both lucky your hair always looks awful," he remarked. "You can hardly tell the difference. Now, come on then, we don't want the food to get cold. Plus, if you take any longer Mum'll start to get suspicious."</p>
<p>Hermione shot Harry a fretful glance—they <em>definitely</em> did not want to have any sort of "talk" with Mrs. Weasley.</p>
<p>"Right," Harry said quickly, hopping off the bed.</p>
<p>"Time for lunch then, let's go," Hermione added, making a beeline for the door.</p>
<p>As Harry followed her out the door, he heard Fred snicker and another large crack behind him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0031"><h2>31. Chapter 31</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The kitchen in Sirius' mother's home was just as dark and depressing as the rest of the house.</p>
<p>Well, perhaps not as bad as that awful staircase with the heads of house elves mounted like some grotesque, barbaric trophy wall. Hermione shivered, remembering the revolting display.</p>
<p>How Sirius could ever have grown up here — how he could be <em>related</em> to people who would do that … there might be some distance between her and her parents, but she couldn't imagine what his relationship with <em>his</em> parents must have been like.</p>
<p>The kitchen was a cavernous room with rough stone walls, heavy-looking pots and pans hanging from the ceiling, and a fire on the far side that provided most of the light.</p>
<p>Sirius and Augusta were sitting at one end of the table with a group of adults, including Emmeline Vance and Baker, the blonde man who worked for Amelia Bones, while Ginny and Ron were at the other end. Ron looked more sullen than usual, but Ginny's face betrayed nothing. Hermione couldn't tell at all if Ron had spilled the beans to Ginny about her relationship with Harry.</p>
<p>Molly had already swept Harry into her arms, anxiously checking him over and clucking over him.</p>
<p>"You've grown <em>so </em>much! But, oh, this <em>hair</em>," Molly lamented, "it really just does what it wants, doesn't it?"</p>
<p>She patted her hands down over Harry's untamable locks, earning a slight blush and an uncomfortable shrug from Harry.</p>
<p>George, who was sitting in the middle of the table with Fred, waggled his eyebrows at Hermione suggestively.</p>
<p>Hermione blushed too, patting her own hair self-consciously. Had Fred told his twin or was it really that obvious? She averted her gaze from George, taking the seat next to Neville.</p>
<p>Ron was studiously avoiding looking at her. Well, there's nothing she could do about <em>that</em>. He'd get over whatever was bugging him eventually. She wasn't about to apologize for her relationship.</p>
<p>She bit her lip, unable to hide her smile.</p>
<p>It was a real relationship. Oh, she'd known it was <em>something</em>, but maybe there was a part of her that had been afraid to ask, to have the conversation, to define it. It's not like she thought Harry would say it was just a snog or two, but she wasn't entirely sure how relationships work and there really weren't books on this subject that were any good. By <em>not</em> asking Harry the question, she could avoid the whole uncertain situation. She hated uncertain situations.</p>
<p>But the way Harry had been so nonchalant about it—how natural it sounded when he called her his girlfriend—she hadn't known how that would feel.</p>
<p>She'd been happy and giddy and scared and like everything was just a little bit askew—but in a good way. And then Harry had held her, assured her that she mattered, and the look in his eyes was so intense she felt it in the very core of her. And she felt something else too—something dangerous and exciting at the same time.</p>
<p>And then Fred had gone and ruined all of it.</p>
<p>She looked across the table where he was watching her smugly.</p>
<p>"All right there, Hermione?" Fred asked, raising his cup to his lips.</p>
<p>"Fine," she replied as casually as she could.</p>
<p>Fred grinned and was about to say something else when his twin nudged him. George was now concentrated on the other end of the table. Hermione and Fred followed his gaze.</p>
<p>"So is Amelia really worried about it?" Emmeline Vance asked Baker, trying to keep her volume low.</p>
<p>"Not particularly," Baker replied. "Lucius Malfoy has always been in Fudge's ear and she's always known who he is."</p>
<p>"A self-serving parasite," Augusta muttered.</p>
<p>"Well, she's got us monitoring him more closely," a woman with pink hair piped up. "Two-Auror patrols at all times."</p>
<p>"I'm sure Fudge loves that," Sirius said.</p>
<p>Baker shrugged. "All for Lucius' protection, of course," he responded wryly, grinning at the others. "Seeing as he's such a <em>close</em> advisor to the minister."</p>
<p>"<em>Ahem!" </em>Molly cleared her throat loudly. "That's enough of <em>that</em> conversation."</p>
<p>She looked pointedly at her children, Neville, Hermione, and Harry, whom she was still standing next to, and whom it was very clear had been ignoring her in favor of listening in on the conversation about Malfoy. "We can save that talk for <em>after</em> lunch."</p>
<p>Baker and the woman with pink hair looked chastised, but Hermione could practically feel Sirius' eye roll.</p>
<p>"It all looks delicious, Molly!" Pink hair said enthusiastically at the spread before them.</p>
<p>"Thank you, Tonks," Molly replied, as she and Harry took their seats at the table.</p>
<p><em>This</em> was Tonks? This woman with pink hair was the person who had been watching Hermione that she had been unable to notice?</p>
<p>"Yeah, Mum, really good," Fred agreed, passing Harry a serving dish.</p>
<p>It really <em>was</em> delicious—Mrs. Weasley's food always was—and the table was soon filled with the clattering of dishes, laughter and small talk. Harry, Hermione and Neville were introduced to the adults with Sirius, Augusta and Emmeline—Nymphadora Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, two aurors who were new to the Order of the Phoenix; Elphias Doge, a member of the first Order with Emmeline and Sirius; and John Baker, Amelia's right hand man in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.</p>
<p>Mrs. Weasley determinedly steered the conversation away from anything of interest with regard to You-Know-Who, earning a complicated set of eye rolls from her children.</p>
<p>Ginny shot Hermione a long-suffering glance. They hadn't had much time to talk earlier, but Ginny had echoed what Fred and George had said: The Weasley kids had spent the better part of the past few weeks stuck in this house, cleaning it, a decidedly torturous endeavor since Sirius' family appeared to own more cursed objects than you could find in Borgin &amp; Burkes.</p>
<p>According to Ginny, members of the Order came and went at all hours, but Mrs. Weasley watched her kids like a hawk, making sure they didn't hear anything. The twins had fought back with a new invention of theirs—extendable ears—but Molly had managed to confiscate most of them.</p>
<p>Hermione looked around the table. Fred and George were whispering to each other, Kingsley was regaling Baker, Sirius, Emmeline and Tonks with some story from his auror training days that the group found hilarious, and Elphias Doge was listening intently to Augusta.</p>
<p>"I saw Griselda just the other day," Augusta informed him, leaning forward conspiratorially. "The Board has let her sit in on the testimony. According to her, it's been quite illuminating."</p>
<p>"How so?"</p>
<p>"Well, Slughorn had quite a bit to say about his former student's teaching methods," she said, and Hermione perked up at the mention. She'd read that name when she'd done her research about Snape, and Dumbledore had mentioned him as the former head of Slytherin house during her hearing about Sirius all those months ago. Griselda Marchbanks must be sitting in on the hearings about Snape.</p>
<p>Hermione leaned in closer. Neville noticed her shift in his direction, glanced at his grandmother, and then grinned at Hermione as they both listened in to what she was saying. Harry caught their eye across the table; he was listening, too.</p>
<p>"Took them a fair bit to get Slughorn there," Augusta added, seemingly unaware of her new audience. "Apparently, when Tobias Jones showed up with his summons, Slughorn's bags were packed and he looked ready to go on a very long trip."</p>
<p>"I've never known Horace Slughorn to give up a vacation willingly," Doge commented.</p>
<p>Augusta waved her hand in a gesture that said Doge should know the answer. "You know Slughorn," she replied. "Flatter him a bit and make him think he's important, he can't help but be the center of attention. Especially when he gets to remind everyone how much <em>better </em>he was at the job. Mind you, the man may be an insufferable kiss up, but in that regard, he's not <em>wrong."</em></p>
<p>Doge frowned. "I admit, Severus Snape is—er—unpleasant, but Dumbledore knows what he's doing," he said confidently. "I'm sure he wouldn't let the man teach if—"</p>
<p>"<em>My</em> Frank arrested Snape for a reason," Augusta shot back sharply.</p>
<p>"But he's helped the Order, hasn't he?" Doge insisted. "I have the utmost faith in Dumbledore, and he believes in Snape." His mouth was set in a line and he nodded firmly, as if that settled <em>that</em>.</p>
<p>Augusta scowled. "Doesn't make him a good teacher," she spat back. "Hermione here has taught my grandson more about Potions than Snape ever has."</p>
<p>The adults turned toward Hermione and Neville, and his face was as red as hers felt. Still, she felt a ripple of pride run through her at the praise.</p>
<p>"And given how <em>this</em> one"—Augusta pointed at Tonks, who looked startled by Augusta's sudden attention—"is one of the only people during his tenure to do well enough on her Potions NEWTs to make Auror, that certainly says <em>something</em> about his teaching ability, too."</p>
<p>Augusta glanced over Tonks, a slight frown on her face. Tonks accidentally knocked over the water jug and, if it was possible, Augusta's frown grew deeper. Doge looked disbelieving.</p>
<p>"That can't be true," he said. "Tonks can't be the only… Becoming an Auror is difficult, and—"</p>
<p>"I just know what Griselda tells me," Augusta insisted. "And what she tells me is that the lack of eligible Aurors has a lot to do with failing NEWT scores. And she would know about NEWTs, wouldn't she? That's half the reason we're in this mess. Even with Amelia on our side, there's just not enough Aurors to keep an eye on all of the Death Eaters who were never sent to Azkaban. The Malfoys, the Goyles, the Crabbes, the—"</p>
<p>"<em>Ahem,"</em> Molly interrupted loudly, her hands gripping the table like she was about to stand. The rest of the group was now listening to Augusta with rapt attention. "I thought we agreed <em>not</em> to discuss that particular subject."</p>
<p>"Oh, please," Augusta muttered. "If these kids of yours aren't bright enough to realize that the likes of the Malfoys and the Goyles are Death Eaters, then they're dumber than a pack of trolls. I'm not telling them anything they don't already know."</p>
<p>"Hear, hear," Fred cheered.</p>
<p>"Honestly, Mum, she's just talking about the Hogwarts Board and how they're going to sack Snape," Ron piped up for the first time the entire meal, a hopeful look on his face.</p>
<p>"We don't know that's what they'll decide," Molly sighed, and Hermione got the impression they'd had this discussion many times before.</p>
<p>"We can dream," Ron muttered, earning snickers from Harry, Sirius, Neville and the Weasley kids.</p>
<p>Molly smiled reluctantly, but still looked stressed. Hermione figured she must put a whole lot of her energy into keeping her kids from finding out things she didn't want them to know.</p>
<p>And there were a whole lot of things Molly didn't think they should know.</p>
<p>"Ginny says Bill's back from Egypt?" Hermione asked Mrs. Weasley, hoping to change the subject to something less tense. She could always ask Augusta more about what Griselda said when Mrs. Weasley wasn't around. She'd likely get better answers then (and certainly less resistance).</p>
<p>At the mention of Bill, Molly's smile brightened.</p>
<p>"Oh, yes," she gushed. "He took a desk job in London. It's been so <em>nice</em> having him back. Now we just need to get Charlie home, and we'll have the whole family together."</p>
<p>"Good luck tearing Charlie away from his dragons, Mum," Fred remarked, grabbing another helping of potatoes.</p>
<p>"We have dragons here," Molly said hopefully. "There's a whole reserve of Welsh Greens."</p>
<p>"Which are awfully boring compared to what Charlie gets to work with in Romania," George pointed out.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Neville shuddered. "That one Welsh Green seemed plenty awful to me during the First Task."</p>
<p>"It didn't have spikes on its tail, though, did it?" Harry retorted.</p>
<p>"No, the Horntail was downright horrific," Neville agreed. "But I still wouldn't exactly want to have tea with a Welsh Green either."</p>
<p>"The way Charlie talks about them, they're basically puffskeins," Fred commented.</p>
<p>Hermione eyed him. "I think your brother spent a bit too much time with Hagrid during his Hogwarts years," she said dryly. Fred grinned.</p>
<p>"It's not just the dragons," Ginny added. "Charlie's got a whole life in Romania. He's got his friends, and he just bought himself a new Nimbus for that Quidditch league he's in, and—"</p>
<p>"He did?" Ron asked, and Fred and George exchanged confused glances. This was clearly the first the Weasley boys had heard of it.</p>
<p>Ginny nodded. "He's giving me his old Wind Rider," she added, filling her water glass.</p>
<p>Hermione didn't keep up with broom models, but she understood that the Wind Rider was a very good broom—it was no Firebolt, or even a Nimbus, but it was a quality broom for a seeker. According to Ginny, Charlie was generally pretty frugal—but he always splurged when it came to his brooms.</p>
<p>Fred, George and Ron looked affronted.</p>
<p>"Why's he giving it to you?" Ron asked, annoyed.</p>
<p>"Yeah, why not one of his siblings who <em>actually</em> play on a Quidditch team?" Fred added, exchanging a glance with George.</p>
<p>Ginny shrugged unhelpfully. "I dunno," she responded, "maybe because I asked?"</p>
<p>None of the boys seemed to know what to say to that, but Ron glared at Ginny sullenly.</p>
<p>"Yes, well, there are Quidditch leagues here, too," Molly said, ignoring the looks of annoyance her children were exchanging, her body language signaling she was well used to their internal squabbles. "Regardless, at least we have Bill back."</p>
<p>"He's been dead useful, too, trying to help get the goblins on our side with You-Know-Who back," Tonks added.</p>
<p>Molly glared at her, clearly annoyed Tonks had brought up anything regarding the war.</p>
<p>George, clearly anticipating another lecture, interrupted. "And hey, you know who's working with him there?" he said in a booming, cheerful voice. "Fleur Delacour. She got a job at Gringotts to <em>eemprove 'er English</em>."</p>
<p>"And Bill's been giving her a lot of private lessons," Fred sniggered, earning a chastising look from Molly.</p>
<p>Hermione frowned. "You don't have to make it sound so <em>tawdry</em>," she said reprovingly, feeling protective of Fleur. She might rub Hermione the wrong way sometimes, but Harry wouldn't have gotten out of that graveyard without her lessons in nonverbal magic. She'd been a good friend.</p>
<p>Fred waggled his eyebrows at her. "Bit touchy about private lessons, Hermione?" he asked, his eyes sparkling mirthfully.</p>
<p>Hermione blushed, unconsciously patting her hair down again, remembering what Fred had very recently walked in on, and Harry shot Fred a sharp glare. Ron glanced between the three of them, understanding dawning on his face.</p>
<p>He turned toward Harry, his face contorting thunderously. "In my <em>room</em>?" he practically bellowed accusingly.</p>
<p>"Ron—"</p>
<p>"What on earth?" Molly interrupted Harry, clearly alarmed.</p>
<p>"These two," Ron sputtered, pointing between Harry and Hermione. "Snogging. In my <em>room</em>."</p>
<p>The way he said "In my room" made it sound like Harry and Hermione had spent the morning clubbing baby unicorns.</p>
<p>Hermione wanted to crawl under the table. Molly was sputtering shocked exclamations, Fred and George were openly laughing, and Sirius looked like he wanted to join them. Tonks was watching them all wide eyed like they were entertainment on the telly, Baker and Emmeline seemed to think they were all nutters, and Ron and Harry were locked in some sort of stare, Ron looking murderous. Ginny's face was blank.</p>
<p>"Is this true?" Molly asked faintly.</p>
<p>"Hermione's my girlfriend, yeah," Harry answered her, breaking Ron's stare to look over at Hermione, offering her a reassuring smile that clearly said, "Well, we're in this now."</p>
<p>Hermione smiled back.</p>
<p>"Well," Molly said, recovering from her shock, glancing between them both, taking in the way they were beaming at each other. "Well that's… that's lovely, for you two. Of course it is." She smiled at them both, though still seemed a bit thrown.</p>
<p>Ron whirled on Ginny, his eyes narrowed. "Did you know about it?" he asked, clearly expecting that he was the absolute last to know.</p>
<p>Ginny turned to him, her face impassive. "Hermione didn't tell me, no," she said evenly, shrugging her shoulder with a practiced air. "But I'm not exactly <em>surprised</em>, and I can't believe you are, Ron. They're always together. And Angelina <em>did</em> say that Fred thought Harry looked ready to shag her on the dance floor at the Yule Ball."</p>
<p>Hermione didn't exactly remember Angelina saying anything of the sort, and felt a surge of anger at Ginny for making the situation even worse.</p>
<p>Because, of course, Ginny's words had an immediate effect. Harry's head snapped toward Fred, and Molly stood, jabbing her finger at her son accusingly. George turned red with laughter. If it was possible, Augusta's lips got even thinner, set in a grim line as she surveyed the Weasleys.</p>
<p>"Fred Weasley! I raised you better than that! Talking so <em>scandalously</em> about a teenage girl like she's some sort of scarlet woman!" Molly cried, standing from the table.</p>
<p>Hermione thought it was a bit rich considering not that long ago, Molly believed Rita Skeeter's words about her and likely called her a scarlet woman—in her own head if not out loud.</p>
<p>Still, if Hermione thought she wanted to crawl under the table before, she definitely wanted to now with the way Molly was going on about her romantic life in front of all these people she had just met.</p>
<p>"And Harry! He's an impressionable boy who looks up to you! Not to mention your sister hearing that sort of vulgar talk—and <em>repeating</em> it! When your father comes home—"</p>
<p>"Mum, enough!" Fred yelled, bellowing over her litany, holding his hands up in surrender. "<em>I</em> said nothing of the sort. All I said was that Harry looked like a perfect gentleman, escorting Hermione around the dance floor. If anyone said something <em>scandalous</em>, it was Angelina. She can be a shifty sort, you know."</p>
<p>"It's true," George jumped in helpfully, having recovered from his laughter. "Angelina's always been a bit of a loose canon." He clucked reprovingly at Fred and Ginny. "You two should really choose your confidants more carefully."</p>
<p>"Too true, brother," Fred agreed, nodding his head vigorously.</p>
<p>"Yes, clearly <em>Angelina</em> is the bad influence in my life," Ginny deadpanned.</p>
<p>"Don't knock bad influences," Sirius chimed in. "Remus would've had a very boring time at Hogwarts if not for me and James."</p>
<p>Fred shot him a grateful glance for the conversation change.</p>
<p>Emmeline snorted, a move that was at complete odds with her regal-looking demeanor. "I seem to recall you and James being a bit of a bad influence long after Hogwarts," she commented. "Gideon told me about the time you all went down to McHale's the night of the Rosier wedding and—"</p>
<p>"And there's no need to talk of the Rosier wedding," Sirius interrupted hastily, adopting an expression not unlike Fred's a few minutes ago. "Besides, <em>Fabian</em> was the instigator that time. You know he always had an affinity for transfiguring just about anything into a rubber chicken."</p>
<p>Emmeline and Sirius shared a fond smile, while Molly looked stricken. Whatever righteous anger she had built up was completely gone. Sirius noticed her expression and sobered up.</p>
<p>"Ah, Molly—" he started to say, but she held up her hands.</p>
<p>"I'm fine," she said, a tight smile on her face. "You don't have to avoid talking about my brothers because—Well, we've all got someone, haven't we?"</p>
<p>Ron had mentioned before that Molly had two brothers who died in the war, but Hermione had never known their names. So they'd been members of the Order of the Phoenix, too.</p>
<p>They all seemed to sober at Molly's comment. She'd lost her brothers, Harry had lost his parents, Neville and Augusta had lost Frank and Alice, Sirius had lost the only family he'd cared to have—yes, everyone involved in the first war had lost someone.</p>
<p>Hermione was glad they were no longer discussing her love life, but she wished more than anything that the topic change could have been anything else.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The mood at the table shifted after that, and Molly soon ushered the kids out of the kitchen so the adults could talk. When they got to the drawing room, Ginny quickly uttered some excuse about finishing a letter to Charlie and scampered off.</p>
<p>Hermione had to talk to her. She hadn't been the one to tell her about Harry and she was sorry for that, but to be quite frank, she was also annoyed at that comment Ginny had made. The only reason she could come up with for Ginny lying about what Angelina said was that she was angry with Hermione and lashed out to embarrass her.</p>
<p>But she needed to know the truth.</p>
<p>Hermione turned to Harry. "I'd better go talk to her," she said quietly, not wanting the others to hear.</p>
<p>Harry frowned, moving closer to her. "She seemed all right when she found out," he said. "She said she basically knew already."</p>
<p>Hermione stared at him, dumbfounded. "Honestly, Harry," she said, shaking her head, "she <em>obviously</em> practiced that reaction."</p>
<p>"Really?"</p>
<p>Hermione smiled. He was so endearingly naïve sometimes, and the surprised expression on his face was adorable. He was also close enough that all Hermione would have to do is lift her face a little and…</p>
<p>"If you two are looking for a room, just don't pick mine," Ron said huffily, interrupting them as he brushed past them into the room and flopped on the couch.</p>
<p>"We're sorry about using the room you're staying in, Ron, but it's not like we were in your bed," Hermione snapped, and Ron turned red at the thought.</p>
<p>"Lay off them, Ronniekins," Fred added. "Just because they're having a bit of fun this summer doesn't mean you have to be so sour about it. We'll be back at Hogwarts soon enough and you can snog that Ravenclaw of yours all you want. We'll even tell you where the good broom closets are."</p>
<p>"As long as you promise not to use them for any more boring chess matches," George warned. "If you want to charm a girl into snogging you, there are better ways to go about it."</p>
<p>Ron's entire face was now as red as his hair.</p>
<p>"Well—just—that's beside the—Who wants to play Exploding Snap?" he sputtered. Apparently, he wasn't fond of the direction the conversation had taken.</p>
<p>"Sounds good," Neville agreed quickly, grabbing the deck of cards.</p>
<p>Hermione turned to Harry, her hand grazing his. "I'll be back soon," she promised.</p>
<p>Harry nodded, squeezing her hand lightly before joining the others on the sofas.</p>
<p>When Hermione got to Ginny's room, the door was open and she was definitely not writing any letters. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her back against the wall.</p>
<p>"Ginny? Can I come in?"</p>
<p>Ginny looked up, blinking rapidly.</p>
<p>"Sure," she said, motioning for Hermione to sit with her. Hermione sat gingerly on the bed, watching Ginny's face carefully. She looked paler than usual, and there were dark circles under her eyes, like she hadn't been sleeping much.</p>
<p>"Listen, Ginny, I was going to tell you," Hermione said diplomatically. "But Harry and I <em>just</em> figured out what we were. And I couldn't tell you before I even knew."</p>
<p>Ginny's face was full of trepidation. "You two might've just now decided your relationship status, but you can't tell me you haven't had an inkling about this for a while. I'm not <em>stupid</em> you know."</p>
<p>"I know that," Hermione answered. "And you're right. I have known that I liked him for a while. For months, really."</p>
<p>Ginny narrowed her eyes. "You told me about Viktor, but you didn't tell me about this."</p>
<p>It wasn't a question, and yet, it was.</p>
<p>Hermione shrugged uncomfortably. "It felt a bit odd," she said. "You used to gush about Harry to me, and now it's reversed and…"</p>
<p>Ginny's face turned stony. "Right," she bit out. "I'm Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter's biggest fan, the dumb girl who sent him a singing valentine when he didn't even know who I was."</p>
<p>"That's not true, Ginny, no one thinks that," Hermione insisted, but this was exactly why she hadn't felt comfortable talking to Ginny. Here she was, reassuring Ginny about her former crush on Hermione's boyfriend.</p>
<p><em>Boyfriend</em>… she still liked the sound of that.</p>
<p>Ginny raised her eyebrow disbelievingly. "It's fine, Hermione," she said. "You don't have to worry that I'm going to stalk your boyfriend or cry into my pillow that he's dating someone. I'm dating someone too, remember?"</p>
<p>"For the record, I never thought that," Hermione said. "I just didn't want you to be hurt."</p>
<p>Ginny smiled bitterly. "I realized a long time ago that my crush on Harry was going nowhere," she said. "Believe me, whether it was you or someone else, I've known this day was coming for a long time."</p>
<p>That, Hermione believed. The nonchalance in Ginny's response to Ron's question, the way she'd shrugged with trained effortlessness—she probably <em>had</em> practiced her reaction not once or twice, but countless times before. It seemed very important to her that people not see her as the girl who crushed on Harry.</p>
<p>Of course, there <em>was</em> something else about her reaction that was bothering Hermione.</p>
<p>"Why did you exaggerate what Angelina said?" she asked.</p>
<p>"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, her face a mask of confusion.</p>
<p>"You know perfectly well that Angelina <em>never</em> said what you said she did," Hermione responded, narrowing her eyes. "At most, she said Harry was flirting a bit."</p>
<p>Hermione stared at Ginny directly, and finally, the redhead looked away.</p>
<p>"Oh, all right, I'm sorry about that," she muttered. "But Ron—everyone, really, did you see the look on Fred's face?—clearly expected me to have some over the top reaction and I got annoyed."</p>
<p>"So you lied to get Fred in trouble?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"Well it got the attention off me, didn't it?"</p>
<p>Hermione searched Ginny's face, but there was no embarrassment. She clearly had no shame over setting Molly off.</p>
<p>"Doesn't that go against your Weasley code?" she asked. The Weasley kids were very clear on that topic: Tell Molly nothing.</p>
<p>Ginny shrugged. "Did you see the way they were all so shocked that Charlie was sending me his broom?" she asked. "They deserved it. And that crack about Quidditch—maybe they'd know how good I was if they ever actually bothered to ask me to play."</p>
<p>Ginny looked furious now. Hermione knew it was a sore topic for her. She'd ranted for hours last summer when the boys had asked Percy to play Quidditch with them and not Ginny.</p>
<p>"Still," Hermione said tersely, "I don't really appreciate being used to get back at Fred or Ron or anyone. You took the attention off you and put it on <em>me</em>. How would you feel if your mother was railing about your love life in front of Augusta Longbottom and Emmeline Vance? I just <em>met</em> Elphias Doge and Kingsley Shacklebolt—and <em>that</em> was my introduction."</p>
<p>Ginny said nothing.</p>
<p>"Did you do it because you're mad at me? For dating Harry? Or not telling you about it?"</p>
<p>Ginny rolled her eyes. "Didn't I just tell you I don't care about who Harry's dating?" she asked, her tone completely even. Hermione studied her, not able to tell if she was telling the truth.</p>
<p>"Look, I'm sorry for setting mum off about you two, all right? My brothers just made me so angry and I said the first thing I thought of in retaliation," Ginny sighed miserably.</p>
<p>Hermione looked around the dimly lit room. The wallpaper was shabby and peeling, the curtains threadbare, and despite all the cleaning the Weasleys had done, there was still a slight musk in the air. It was a depressing place, and she could only imagine that the Weasley kids had been getting on each other's nerves a bit, cooped up here together. Ginny was more irritable than usual because of it—that much was understandable.</p>
<p>Ginny looked smaller as she apologized, the dark circles under her eyes somehow looming larger. Hermione couldn't help but remember that night in the tent last summer—the night of the Quidditch World Cup—when Ginny had woken her up screaming because of her nightmares.</p>
<p>She was still annoyed at what Ginny had said, but some things were more important.</p>
<p>"Are you sleeping?" she asked.</p>
<p>Ginny looked up sharply. "I'm fine," she replied quickly, making it obvious that she wasn't.</p>
<p>"Well, <em>that's</em> clearly a lie. Tell me what's going on," Hermione insisted. She was getting a little tired of people having nightmares and not wanting to talk to her about them.</p>
<p>Ginny hopped up off the bed, keeping her back to Hermione as she shuffled some papers around on the scratched up desk. "Nothing's going on," she replied, annoyed.</p>
<p>Hermione narrowed her eyes. If she were being completely honest with herself, she'd never be sure if she said the next thing because she was annoyed with Ginny making that crack about the Yule Ball or because she honestly wanted to help her friend—perhaps it was a little of both.</p>
<p>"Oh, all right, then," she said. "If you don't want to talk to me, I'll just go and get your mum, and you can talk to her about why you're not sleeping."</p>
<p>Ginny whirled around, her hands gripping the chair behind her.</p>
<p>"You wouldn't," she said through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "We're not following the Weasley Code anymore, right?" she asked.</p>
<p>Ginny stared at her for what felt like ages, their eyes locked in a battle of wills, fighting for dominance. Finally, Ginny looked away.</p>
<p>"It's just these letters from Michael," she replied, her voice smaller. "He keeps talking about Quidditch matches, his family's beach holiday, getting ice cream with his brother everyday—just all of these <em>normal </em>things. And I'm here, in this house, watching members of the Order come in and out, and Harry fought You-Know-Who a month ago, and how can he possibly be thinking about <em>ice</em> <em>cream</em> at a time like this?"</p>
<p>She sounded frustrated and annoyed and a little bit helpless, and Hermione understood her completely. She knew what it felt like to feel powerless, to want to scream at the world that You-Know-Who was back, to want people to care more about the important things she cared about.</p>
<p>"I suppose it's not as real for him," Hermione said, trying to put herself in Michael Corner's shoes. "He doesn't really know Harry that well, and he's not living like we are, seeing it everyday. He… he didn't see the bodies."</p>
<p>Ginny looked up wide-eyed at that. "You saw them?" she asked, her voice a whisper.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded miserably. She'd never forget Winky's slight frame next to Crouch's lifeless body in Dumbledore's office.</p>
<p>Ginny's eyes shone with unshed tears.</p>
<p>"Do you think it hurt?" Ginny asked quietly. "When he killed Winky?"</p>
<p>Hermione shook her head. "Everything we know about the Killing Curse says that it doesn't hurt," she replied robotically, reciting what she'd read in a textbook. Of course, the only person who had ever survived one and knew what it felt like was Harry, and he'd just been a baby. She had to believe it didn't hurt, though. All those people who had been killed, Harry's parents—she didn't want to believe it was painful.</p>
<p>Ginny nodded, her eyes wide. She was rocking back and forth, like the movement was comforting her somehow.</p>
<p>"It was my fault, you know," she blurted. "Winky. I'm the one who told her to go see Crouch."</p>
<p>Understanding dawned within Hermione, but she couldn't believe Ginny still blamed herself. She'd been annoyed when Ginny had made the suggestion to Winky all those months ago, but only because she thought Crouch treated Winky terribly. Never in a million years had she imagined what would happen.</p>
<p>"Ginny, for all we know, Winky would've gone to see Crouch whether you said anything or not," Hermione insisted. "But even if she didn't, there's no way any of us could've known what would happen."</p>
<p>Ginny laughed bitterly. "That seems to happen with me a lot, doesn't it?" she asked viciously. "I didn't mean for Winky to get killed. I didn't mean to set a basilisk on you and Colin and Percy's girlfriend. I didn't mean for Harry to get trapped in the Chamber of Secrets. But that doesn't change what happened, does it? I'm Ginny Weasley, the little girl who keeps helping You-Know-Who."</p>
<p>Her face was hard, her eyes glittering.</p>
<p>"And I've got this boyfriend who only cares about sailing and ice cream and all of these stupid, trivial things, and I'm stuck here in this house cleaning, not doing anything useful. Oh, Ginny can't be told anything important, she's just the <em>baby</em>, she's just our <em>little girl</em>, she's just the idiot who got possessed by a lunatic diary."</p>
<p>Ginny was breathing hard and the look on her face was positively lethal.</p>
<p>"They're being that overprotective with all of us," Hermione said carefully.</p>
<p>"At least Neville's Gran tells you things," Ginny muttered. "At least you guys are <em>doing</em> something. Sirius says he's training you?"</p>
<p>Hermione nodded.</p>
<p>"I just wish I could be doing something," Ginny muttered helplessly.</p>
<p>Hermione couldn't help but feel for her. And then it came to her—there <em>was</em> something Ginny could do, something that might make her feel better about Winky.</p>
<p>"Well," she said, venturing forward carefully, "it's not the same as training, but Neville and I are going to Hannah's next week. So we can research the house elves and help others like Winky. Hannah said we could invite anyone else, and Luna might be coming."</p>
<p>Ginny's face shifted hopefully at the thought. "I doubt Mum would let me go though," she sighed.</p>
<p>"She might. Emmeline's going to be there, so someone from the Order will be with us," Hermione rationalized.</p>
<p>She could see the wheels turning in Ginny's head. "If I ask Dad when he gets home from work tonight," she murmured, chewing on her lower lip as she considered her options. Then she looked up, a confident smile on her face.</p>
<p>"That sounds brilliant," she beamed.</p>
<hr/>
<p>The rest of the afternoon passed much more peacefully after that. When Ginny and Hermione returned to the drawing room, Ron seemed to be in a much better mood (Hermione had to assume that had something to do with Fred's eyebrows getting singed off in their game of Exploding Snap).</p>
<p>The only odd moment had been when Tonks said goodbye to them all, pulling Sirius aside for a moment.</p>
<p>"Have you given any thought to dinner?" she asked cheerily. "Mum would really love to have you."</p>
<p>But Sirius had been evasive, making all sorts of excuses about being busy with Harry. Tonks didn't look like she believed him at all, but merely nodded and said, "Well, Mum's going to keep asking. If there's anything I've learned from two decades of knowing her, she's going to nag us both until you come. You might as well just relent now and save us the hassle. She really wants to see you."</p>
<p>"She knew where I was for 12 years," Sirius muttered bitterly, almost under his breath. Tonks smiled sadly at him, but didn't say anything else. They both left the room quickly after that.</p>
<p>"What was that about?" Hermione asked Harry, totally confused.</p>
<p>Harry shook his head, clearly not understanding.</p>
<p>"Tonks' mum is Andromeda Black—well, Andromeda Tonks now," Neville answered them. "She's Sirius' cousin."</p>
<p>Harry looked shocked. "Sirius has family that's alive?" he asked. "He's never mentioned it."</p>
<p>Harry looked disturbed by the thought.</p>
<p>Neville nodded. "The rest of his family isn't worth much—it's just Andromeda and her sisters left. Narcissa Malfoy and… and Bellatrix Lestrange."</p>
<p>His voice was strangled on the last name, his eyes going dark. Hermione knew she was the woman who had tortured Neville's parents along with Barty Crouch Jr. She was still in Azkaban.</p>
<p>And she was related to Sirius. Now the contents of this terrible house were beginning to make more sense.</p>
<p>But still— how could Sirius be related to Draco Malfoy, the woman who tortured Frank and Alice, <em>and </em>Tonks? Purebloods made her brain hurt sometimes. Harry looked like he was thinking the same thing.</p>
<p>"Sirius is related to Bellatrix Lestrange?" Hermione asked disbelievingly.</p>
<p>Neville shrugged uncomfortably. "There are only so many pureblood families. We're all related in some way or another," he said. "I reckon Sirius doesn't want anything to do with most of his family, but I think Tonks' mum is okay. Gran's never said anything bad about her."</p>
<p>Harry looked troubled. "It sounded like he was mad at her," he said, "for never visiting him in Azkaban."</p>
<p>"She might've tried," Neville said. "It's very rare that someone who's not a high-ranking Ministry official gets an approved visit."</p>
<p>"Or… she might've believed he was guilty," Hermione added sadly. It was the most likely scenario and she couldn't imagine Andromeda would've tried if she thought Sirius was a Death Eater.</p>
<p>"But why is he so mad at her? Sirius didn't blame Remus for not believing him," Harry pointed out.</p>
<p>Hermione thought back to that night in the Shrieking Shack. "Well, think about it," she said. "Remus was the first person in a decade to believe him. He was probably just so happy and relieved that he didn't have time to think about any resentment. Plus, he felt guilty because he had thought Remus was the spy, remember? So how could he be mad at Remus for thinking the same thing he had? But now, he's had time to adjust, time to reflect on his time in Azkaban—and he's angry."</p>
<p>"I don't blame him," Neville said, shaking his head. "When you think about how much he's lost, it's a wonder he hasn't snapped."</p>
<p>Harry seemed to consider what they were saying, but his worry didn't abate.</p>
<p>"What are you thinking?" Hermione asked.</p>
<p>"I'm thinking that if I had a cousin who was decent, I'd want to see her no matter what," Harry said. "No matter how angry I was."</p>
<p>"All right," Hermione nodded. "So we'll just have to get him to that dinner then."</p>
<p>That was easier said then done, though. When Harry asked Sirius about his family, he was more than willing to tell Harry about his cousin Andromeda—whom he'd always liked best—but when Harry brought up seeing her, Sirius deflected: He had business with the Order, he had business at Hogwarts, he needed to train Harry, Neville and Hermione, he needed to knit scarves with Augusta. Sirius had an excuse for everything.</p>
<p>Where they did have a breakthrough, however, was the house elf front. Harry and Hermione were sitting by the lake one afternoon (under the watchful eye of Diggy, of course, though the family elf did at least do them the courtesy of watching from across the lake). Hermione was reading a book while Harry transfigured blades of grass into snowflakes (Sirius had finally upgraded him from bubbles), sitting together in the companionable silence she'd come to depend on, when Neville came tearing out of the house.</p>
<p>By the time he reached them he was completely out of breath—he stood, doubled over, hands on his knees, trying to huff the words out.</p>
<p>"Mag— Magnus," he wheezed. "Magnus Smith."</p>
<p>Harry and Hermione shot up, exchanging quizzical glances. Hermione's book lay beside her, completely forgotten.</p>
<p>"Who's Magnus Smith?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>"I don't really know," Neville replied, recovering his breathing. "He lived a few hundred years ago. But I was up in the attic to see if there were any books up there that weren't in the library, and I found some of the family portraits that…er…don't really make it into the main gallery."</p>
<p>"Why not?" Harry asked.</p>
<p>Neville looked uncomfortable. "Er, well… because they were Slytherins," he admitted. "They used to be in the Gallery, but Uncle Algie says that during the last war, my grandpa packed them all away and Gran's kept them there ever since."</p>
<p>"They can't all be bad, can they?" Harry asked. "I mean, the lot that's in Slytherin now is awful, but…"</p>
<p>Neville shrugged. "I reckon not," he said. "They all lived long before You-Know-Who. Centuries ago, really. Who knows what Slytherin was like back then? Of course, considering Salazar Slytherin kept a basilisk in the school…"</p>
<p>He trailed off, looking confused.</p>
<p>"So… Magnus?" Hermione prompted, impatient to learn what Neville had about the house elves.</p>
<p>"Oh, right!" Neville cried, his eyes lighting up. "Well, there's this one bloke up there—Charles Longbottom—who went on and on and <em>on </em>about Magnus Smith and how he used to talk about some secret room he found. Bragged about it, he said. Was real smug."</p>
<p>"That's brilliant!" Hermione cried, finally feeling like they were on the precipice of something.</p>
<p>"We don't know that it's the right room," Neville warned. "It could be Rowena Ravenclaw's room."</p>
<p>"Or just some random room that only pops up on Tuesdays because it amuses Hogwarts," Harry added.</p>
<p>"But here's the thing," Neville said, cautiously optimistic. "Smith is a common enough name, but there's a pureblood family of Smiths—and they're all said to be descended from <em>Helga Hufflepuff</em>."</p>
<p>This was the best lead they'd had in ages.</p>
<p>"Did Magnus say anything about where the room was? What did Charles know?" Hermione asked eagerly.</p>
<p>"Nothing. He was more interested in telling me about the time he turned Smith's hair purple," Neville replied, and Hermione felt her hope drop. "But he did say Magnus was best friends with Tiberius Abbott—they were completely inseparable. So when we go to Hannah's, we can focus on those journals."</p>
<p>Neville grinned at them both, clearly proud of his discovery. Harry also looked pleased, but at the mention of Hannah's a bit of the light left his eyes. He was still unhappy that he wasn't allowed to go.</p>
<p>And that mood didn't change the day they went back to Grimmauld Place to meet up with Emmeline and Ginny for the trip to Hannah's. Harry was going to stay there and spend the afternoon with Ron while the others went to the Abbott's.</p>
<p>"Have fun," Harry said to her, a wistful smile on his face, when they went to say their goodbyes. Neville had gone to retrieve the others so they were left alone in the corridor.</p>
<p>She felt bad for Harry, but she had an afternoon with a giant stack of books in front of her and for the first time, she felt like she had a direction for her mission—she would have had more fun if he were coming too, but she couldn't pretend she <em>wasn't</em> going to enjoy it.</p>
<p>"Hopefully, the next time I see you, I'll have something useful," she said.</p>
<p>Harry grinned confidently, taking her hand in his. "You will," he said, kissing her lightly on the lips, the slight graze sending tingles throughout her body. "You've got a name to research and access to hundreds of books. I've seen you figure out harder puzzles with a whole lot less."</p>
<p>Buoyed by his faith in her, Hermione left for Hannah's optimistic about their chances. This only increased when they arrived at the apartment to find Hannah wasn't alone: Luna, Susan, and Ernie were all already going through the journals. Hannah's carefully ordered piles of books had dramatically changed, and it was obvious that she'd spent a good amount of time over the past few weeks poring through the pages.</p>
<p>"I figured you wouldn't mind the extra help," Hannah beamed at Hermione.</p>
<p>"No, not at all," Hermione agreed, as she, Neville and Ginny settled in with the rest. "Do you have the journals for Tiberius Abbott? One of Neville's ancestors thinks he might know something."</p>
<p>"He would've went to Hogwarts in the early 17th century," Neville supplied.</p>
<p>Hannah went over to one of the piles with a practiced ease—she must've spent her whole summer in this room—pulling more than a dozen books into a new pile.</p>
<p>"He's got quite a lot," Hannah explained, and Neville hopped up to help her, with each of them both carrying a large stack back to where the others sat.</p>
<p>"Why are we doing this anyway, Hermione?" Ernie asked. "Not that I mind helping out, of course, but how will finding Helga Hufflepuff's office help in the fight against You-Know-Who?"</p>
<p>Hermione <em>had</em> told Hannah and Susan that's what they were doing, and in a roundabout way, that was true. She wasn't sure if she should tell them the truth—wasn't sure if they'd still want to help—but Hannah was looking at her with such a trusting face that she didn't want to lie.</p>
<p>"Helga knew something about house elves," Hermione explained. "And since You-Know-Who used one to kidnap Harry"—she glanced furtively at Ginny, whose eyes were concentrated on the journal in her hand—"if we can figure out more about them, we can keep him from using them as a weapon again."</p>
<p>She was expecting to hear opposition. She almost always heard opposition. But the Hufflepuffs looked thoughtful.</p>
<p>"It makes sense," Susan said. "Aunt Amelia said that one of the first things he did last time around was try to get the giants and the werewolves and all of the other creatures on his side."</p>
<p>And then Hannah and Ernie murmured their agreement, and Hermione felt relief that no one told her the house elves liked being slaves. Granted, it's possible that they all believed that, but they could at least see the danger in leaving the status quo intact.</p>
<p>"Well, we'll all be in trouble if You-Know-Who gets the heliopaths on his side," Luna murmured thoughtfully.</p>
<p>Ginny snickered good-naturedly, while Ernie and Susan exchanged a significant look that they thought Luna was a bit mad.</p>
<p>"Heliopaths don't actually exist, Luna," Hermione sighed, unable to comprehend how someone who was clearly so intelligent believed in such ridiculous things.</p>
<p>"Cornelius Fudge has an entire army at his command," Luna insisted, her eyes wide.</p>
<p>"If that were true, he would've set them on Dumbledore already," Hermione retorted.</p>
<p>"Or Rita Skeeter," Neville piped up. "Did you see her latest article about Fudge?"</p>
<p>"No, I don't read <em>The Prophet</em>," Luna said. "It's all propaganda and lies, of course."</p>
<p>But Hannah didn't seem to share that opinion. "'Cornelius Fudge deserves the respect one would afford to the smashed up bag of cockroach clusters left abandoned on the back shelf of Honeydukes,'" she quoted with a giggle. "She's <em>really </em>been going after him lately."</p>
<p>"<em>The Prophet</em> has never been better," Susan agreed.</p>
<p>Neville and Hermione exchanged a conspiratorial grin.</p>
<p>"Speaking of stories in <em>The Prophet</em>, did you see the one about Professor Snape's hearing?" Hannah asked. The story had been very small and buried in the back pages, but there had been a mention of it.</p>
<p>Susan nodded, turning to Ernie. "Has your grandfather said anything about the hearings?" she asked eagerly.</p>
<p>Ernie puffed up as all eyes turned to him. "Well, what goes on in the hearings is <em>strictly </em>confidential of course, but Grandfather <em>has </em>said that if he has anything to say about it, Snape won't be teaching any of us anymore," he answered.</p>
<p>"If only," Neville muttered.</p>
<p>"Oh, come on, you can always just attack him again," Susan said admiringly. Neville blushed.</p>
<p>Hannah watched him closely. "What did it feel like when you actually hit him with that spell?" she asked shyly.</p>
<p>"Glorious," Ginny supplied, earning a small laugh from Neville.</p>
<p>"Honestly? I don't even really remember it," Neville responded. "One minute we were in class, and the next, Harry, Hermione and I were in Professor McGonagall's office."</p>
<p>Hannah seemed to consider that. "So it was just pure adrenaline?" she asked, looking like she'd never done something on pure adrenaline in her life.</p>
<p>"I guess."</p>
<p>"Still, it was very brave," Hannah added.</p>
<p>"Or stupid. If Snape <em>is</em> our teacher this year, he's definitely going to have it in for me now," Neville said miserably.</p>
<p>"And how will that be any different than last year?" Luna asked.</p>
<p>She had a point. Snape always targeted Neville.</p>
<p>"Besides," Luna added, flipping a page, "it could always be worse."</p>
<p>"How?" Neville asked.</p>
<p>Luna looked up briefly. "Well, you could be Professor Snape," she answered earnestly, and everyone laughed. "Imagine being so grim and miserable all the time."</p>
<p>Susan shook her head. "If there's one thing I never want to do, it's picture what it would be like to live Professor Snape's life."</p>
<p>After that, they settled into agreeable silence as they all searched Tiberius' journals, the only sound the flipping of pages.</p>
<p>"Where did you get the name Tiberius Abbott?" Hannah finally asked, and Neville launched into the story of Charles Longbottom and Magnus Smith, with Hannah and Luna listening to him intently. Ginny seemed bored as she flipped through the pages of her journal, but her demeanor was decidedly determined.</p>
<p>Hermione hunkered down with her section of the journals, but didn't find anything of use. Tiberius Abbott seemed like a good sort of person though—he constantly wrote about tutoring younger students, breaking up fights in the corridors, and how much he worried about his best friend's—Magnus—home situation, which Hermione gathered wasn't the best. But there was no mention of any secret rooms.</p>
<p>"Huh," Luna mused. "This is odd."</p>
<p>Hermione looked up, full of trepidation, wondering what Luna could possibly consider odd. "What is it?"</p>
<p>"This is his sixth year journal, but look," she said, displaying the open book for them. "Someone ripped out the entire back section."</p>
<p>Hermione inspected the journal; Luna was absolutely right. There were definitely torn out pages.</p>
<p>"Why would someone do that?" Ginny asked.</p>
<p>"It might not be anything," Susan suggested. "It could just be he fancied a girl and was later embarrassed about what he wrote, so he ripped it out or something."</p>
<p>"Or maybe there's something he—or someone else—didn't want us to read," Hermione theorized. "Does he have a seventh year journal?"</p>
<p>They all looked around, but couldn't find one. Had Tiberius stopped journaling or was the book missing for a reason?</p>
<p>"So what do we do now?" Ginny asked.</p>
<p>"One of Hannah's other ancestors could still know something," Ernie suggested.</p>
<p>"Or, if Tiberius and Magnus were hiding something, Magnus could have passed the information down to his descendants," Hannah offered. "Maybe it's some Smith family secret."</p>
<p>Ginny groaned.</p>
<p>"What?" Neville asked, confused by her response.</p>
<p>"That means one of us has to talk to Zacharias Smith," Ginny said miserably, "and he's just about the biggest toerag I've ever met."</p>
<p>"I don't think I know him," Hermione mused, exchanging a puzzled glance with Neville.</p>
<p>"He's a Hufflepuff in our year," Ginny answered, pointing between herself and Luna, "and he's completely full of himself. He thinks he's <em>so</em> fascinating, when really, he's just about the biggest, most obnoxious bore I've ever met."</p>
<p>Susan, Ernie and Hannah exchanged a three-way glance. They didn't look like they disagreed with Ginny exactly, but Hannah and Ernie definitely seemed put off by her vehemence.</p>
<p>"Well, I can talk to Smith," Hannah offered. "He's always been all right with me."</p>
<p>"Thanks Hannah," Hermione said, offering her a tight smile, though she didn't really feel like smiling.</p>
<p>"What's wrong?" Hannah and Luna asked her in unison.</p>
<p>"It's nothing, really," Hermione sighed. "I just thought that Tiberius Abbott would actually lead us to a breakthrough. But we're still just <em>stuck</em>."</p>
<p>Here she was, still completely helpless, still stuck in the same place.</p>
<p>Neville patted her shoulder comfortingly. "We'll figure it out Hermione," he reassured her.</p>
<p>"Besides, we can't expect to figure out something in a month that most people haven't figured out in centuries," Luna pointed out.</p>
<p>Hannah studied Hermione thoughtfully. "And we <em>did</em> make progress," she said. "The pages were cut out for a <em>reason</em>,right? I don't know about you, but everything I read in Tiberius' journal said he's not the sort of bloke to tear out pages for something trivial. So he must've known something important—and if he and Magnus Smith could figure it out, so can we."</p>
<p>She looked so determined, so set on figuring out this mystery, and as Hermione saw that the looks on Neville and Luna's faces mirrored Hannah's she felt bolstered by the support.</p>
<p>Hermione nodded, formulating a plan. "We should look at the other Abbotts from this time period," she said authoritatively. "Maybe Tiberius told one of his siblings or a cousin about the room."</p>
<p>And so they did. But while they learned a fair amount about wizarding customs in the 17th century—not to mention a detailed account of what it was like going to Hogwarts during the Goblin Rebellion of 1612 when the Hog's Head served as headquarters, which Hermione found absolutely fascinating—there was nothing about any secret room.</p>
<p>And then Mrs. Abbott burst into the room, her face flushed, her smile wide, waving a thick envelope.</p>
<p>"Hannah," she said breathlessly, "your Hogwarts letter has arrived—and it's <em>heavy</em>."</p>
<p>Hannah was up in a flash, ripping open the envelope the way most kids tore into presents on Christmas morning. She was rewarded with the flash of a shiny badge dropping into her hand. Hannah let out a little shriek, hopping from foot to foot in an odd sort of jig, while her mother gathered her up in a hug.</p>
<p>"Oh, congratulations, honey," Mrs. Abbott exclaimed. "You worked so hard for it."</p>
<p>"Thanks, mum," Hannah replied, turning red when she realized everyone had witnessed her outburst. "Um—"</p>
<p>"Congratulations, Hannah, that's brilliant," Hermione enthused warmly, knowing that if their roles had been reversed, she'd have had the same exact reaction.</p>
<p>"Better you than me," Susan laughed cheerily, eyeing the badge like it had spattergroit.</p>
<p>"You'll do great," Neville agreed, and Ernie and Luna offered their own praise.</p>
<p>"Thanks," Hannah repeated, smiling widely.</p>
<p>Hermione was happy for her friend, but now that she knew the letters were arriving today, there was nothing she wanted more than to get back to Neville's house. She felt antsy and wondered just how rude it would be to look at her watch. She caught Ernie's eye, and he raised his eyebrow at her, like he was reading her mind.</p>
<p>"Oh, like you're not thinking the exact same thing," Hermione retorted.</p>
<p>Ernie laughed. "Fair enough," he said.</p>
<p>Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, please, you two have been down for prefect for ages," she said.</p>
<p>"Honestly, are you sure you're not prefects already?" Susan laughed. "I definitely remember you trying to take points off me for being out of the common room late, Ernie."</p>
<p>Ernie's ears turned red. "Well, you shouldn't have broken the rules," he muttered.</p>
<p>Susan had a reply to that, but Hermione didn't really hear it. She was too busy staring at the badge in Hannah's hand. She'd wanted Prefect for ages and over the years, that dream had become more clear. When they were first years, it was just this amorphous thing, her wearing a shiny badge, having earned the respect and recognition by her teachers and her peers. And as she got older, it had grown more vivid—patrolling the corridors with Harry and spending her afternoons with Hannah, helping to make up the prefect schedules. She hadn't realized how desperately she wanted that dream until she saw Hannah's badge.</p>
<p>Oh, she couldn't wait to get back to Wiggentree Manor.</p>
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